


My Angel is the Centerfold

by bossyluigi



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universes, Blood, Chases, Crossover, Face Punching, First Meeting, Intergalactic Farces, M/M, Multi, Time Travel, criminal activity, strip club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossyluigi/pseuds/bossyluigi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There were only so many places that would allow the entrance of a man who’s had quite a few to drink. On a Friday night, there were plenty of singles and groups that end up with an alcohol level way over the average for what’s legal. So, when an organization allows one of those select few to walk into a club, it’s normally because they can hold their drinks, or they manage to play it off as if nothing’s wrong. The latter was the case for one Stanley Pines."</p><p>This seemingly depressing Friday only gets worse when almost near intoxication leaves him with a male dancer at what appears to be a strip club, a simple yet shocking and heart-stopping crime, and a sudden involvement in something bigger than a universe and even an intergalactic organization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey There Handsome

There were only so many places that would allow the entrance of a man who’s had quite a few to drink. On a Friday night, there were plenty of singles and groups that end up with an alcohol level way over the average for what’s legal. So, when an organization allows one of those select few to walk into a club, it’s normally because they can hold their drinks, or they manage to play it off as if nothing’s wrong. The latter was the case for one Stanley Pines.  
  
Friday night’s were horrible, especially since there was no one to spend it with. He had blown most of his pocket cash on booze at a corner store and he had waddled along down the main stretch of bars and pubs. It was surprising to find that many around a college campus, but when they were run by students for students, it’s to be expected that people frequent them. The bottle in his hand swung dangerously as he bounded over cracks and uneven slabs of sidewalk and soon he was dropping it at his feet. He uttered a few words of profanity even though no one could hear him. The next place he came to would be where he’d park it for however many hours he could knock out before someone kicked him out.  
  
The sign on the front was a vibrant clash of neon lights but the alcohol had blurred his vision. It looked like a moving image since the lights would change every ten seconds, which wasn’t very concerning. He liked moving images and bright lights, even when drunk.  
  
One of the first things he could see relatively clear was the man at the door. He was a taller gentleman with broad shoulders and a dark suit. The extent of his baldness wrapped around the entirety of his head and left with a gentle glow that reflected the neon lights. Stan’s initial thought was to turn the other way, but he was feeling sick. He’d go in, use the facilities, and leave. If he was careful, it would take less than five minutes tops.  
  
With as genuine of a grin as he could force, Stan marched his way to the door. For a drunk, he certainly knew how to make a first impression. “Good evening my good man!” The smaller details of the man’s face blipped in and out of clarity, but he seemed tense overall by the sudden conversation.  
  
“Can I... _help_ you?”  
  
“That you can! I’ve had a rough night and a buddy of mine recommended this place. He’d said I’d be back on my feet in no time.” A little white lie wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Your buddy said that?” The bouncer chuckled to himself, settling back against the door. “Your buddy’s looking out for you.”

“Oh yeah he’s the best. Just wanna know if you could-- let me in. I’ve got ID somewhere around here.” Hands pat himself down before he pulls a little leather wallet from his inner jacket pocket. “Pines, Stanley. There we go!” Based on the information on the identification, he was twenty-three. It warranted another up and down from the bouncer before he handed the card back.

“You sure you want to go in there little man?”

“Just want to sit down and have a good, clean time.” 

Clean seemed to be the magic word and soon, the door was opened for him. A simple nod of the head was a silent thanks before he pressed forward into the mix of sweaty body heat that blew past him around every corner and the distinct smell of something-- vile. At first, it was a delicate smell, but a familiar one. The further into the mess of litter, pink and purple lights, and pounding bass that he went, the more he could understand where he was. The smell in the air was the smell of sex. It was a smell he’d gone a long time without, but it registered with him as if he’d been there only the night before. The salty fragrance of sweet and alcohol also tinged the air with its pungent stench, but he was more interested in locating the bar. 

All he had left in his wallet were a few twenties and a five. What he could do with that at a place like this was a mystery to him since he’d probably blow it on shots and beer in a half an hour anyway. For now, he would set aside the ten. That’d be enough to get him through the rest of the night after he hit up this place. It’d be his last joint before heading back home and crashing on the couch of the band of rejects that lived in one of the most unsettling houses for rent. It was a two bedroom, two bathroom and rather dingy home. It belonged to three guys all of whom thought it was appropriate to smoke at all hours of the day and rehearse their band’s mediocre lineup of hard metal tunes that all sounded the same apart from a different collection of lyrics each time. It wasn’t a great place to crash, but he knew when he got there he’d have a place to sleep.  
  
As he sat there at the bar, drink in hand, he couldn’t help but think back on it. Did he really want to go back there tonight? As revolting as it was to stick with the Three Stooges, he’d much rather settle down on a park bench and wait for morning before going back and stepping around their stoned corpses to grab a clean pair of clothes. He’d wait out the night and crash in the morning. That’s what he’d do.  
  
The second drink went down, and he was on his third when the lights went down. Things were already disorienting, but the moment a flash of pink seemingly blinded him, he had no idea what was happening anymore. Every so often a body would pass by him and head towards what appeared to be a stage to the center of the room. Various voices broke through the pounding beats to yell various things, all of which were profane in nature yet seemed entirely normal in an establishment like this.

A single figure took center stage before moving about, kneeling besides some of the people gathered to the sides of the stage while turning to expose the entirety of their ass to someone standing to the front. At one point, they seemed to retreat into themselves only to move their arms in a fashion that would’ve been extremely explicit could Stan actually see correctly. Even the attempt to blink the blur away didn’t help. Things around him were overwhelming. A few times, he could make out the bartender asking him if he was okay, to which he replied ‘Yes’ as most would. He could make it through the night. With enough determination and the threat of having to go back and drunkenly face his roommates hanging over his head, he promised that he’d hold out. 

Upon turning back to the stage, he realized that whoever was up there wasn’t there any longer. Two more took their place and Stan was left to wonder where in the world they went off to. He didn’t care much for whatever it was they were doing, but he was sure he’d see them again and his curiosities would be satisfied.

Drink four went down without a hassle and he was about to inquire about a number five (which he most likely wouldn’t get) when the music kicked up again. More screams echoed throughout the room and the dancer appeared once more. They were wearing less clothing than before which was evident in the cream that seemed to blaze under the heat of stage lights. Try as he might, Stan couldn’t make out a whole lot, but from what he saw, the dancer was working what room they had on the stage. Bit by bit more skin was revealed. The realization that this was a burlesque was almost like a sharp slap across the face. His suspicions were confirmed when the figure on the stage had a volunteer untie the corset wrapped tightly around their waist. A roar from the crowd went up the moment the dancer went topless. 

Hands shot up instantly the moment the dancer made their way around the stage, hoping to get to touch the dancer and the confidence that was shining from them. The longer Stan stared, the longer he disconnected from the world around him. The blurring would cease every now and again leaving him with a clear image of the dancer before blurring out again. The dancer was tall, lean, and had a mess of bright blue hair spiked back into something that gave the audience a clear look at the flirtatious facial expressions they sported the longer they stood on stage, visually teasing the audience. Long legs bent at defined knees and spread just as they lowered low enough to keep balance. The studded garters digging into the dancer’s upper thighs held onto fishnet stockings that slipped into knee-high boots fitted with a heel that looked dangerously painful. Apart from the footwear, a g-string held everything in place as best as it could before giving way to a trail of blue pubic hair that stretched up to the dancer’s naval and then continued to tuft in the center of their chest. From what he could see and make out, the dancer appeared to be visually male. 

Ah, so he had found himself in one of _those_ clubs. In all honestly, he was too drunk to care, but not drunk enough the moment the dancer strutted his way through the crowd, down the stairs to the front of the stage and toyed with the club-goers.

A few voices called out as the dancer passed by, calling him all sorts of pet names, but ultimately got a finger drawn across their lips, playing a potential kiss before a hand moved to slap them across the face. The cheers of shock and delight fueled the cock of one side of the dancer’s bright blue unibrow. He was getting off on the reactions of the crowd, which brought him directly to the bar. 

Out of the people sitting at the bar, Stan seemed to be the most invested in what was going on, thus, the dancer chose him to be his first victim of the night. The same long legs that had once stretched out before the crowd now stepped up to the unsuspecting drunk. Stan’s eyes followed the heels before moving up the expanse of his legs, his groin, and suddenly his head was being lifted the rest of the way by slender fingers which dipped under his stubbled chin.

  
“ _Hey there handsome._ ” 


	2. As Straight as an Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, the world around him faded out of existence. There was nothing to look at but the made-up face of this dancer. Eyes locked tight with his own and the edges of slim lips curled into a half-cocked smirk. It was obvious that he didn’t much care for the fact that the drunk in his control was too intoxicated to really control himself. However, he wasn’t afraid. There was something about the starstruck drunk that intrigued him. 
> 
> “You don’t have to-- to say anything. I’ll take reeeeeeeeal good care of you.” 
> 
> A continuation of My Angel is The Centerfold.

In that moment, the world around him faded out of existence. There was nothing to look at but the made-up face of this dancer. Eyes locked tight with his own and the edges of slim lips curled into a half-cocked smirk. It was obvious that he didn’t much care for the fact that the drunk in his control was too intoxicated to really control himself. However, he wasn’t afraid. There was something about the starstruck drunk that intrigued him. 

“You don’t have to-- to say anything. I’ll take reeeeeeeeal good care of you.” 

Slim hips swung in something that resembled a figure eight before moving to settle up on Stan’s lap. One of the dancer’s lengthy legs settled on the rung of the stool while the other hitched itself around Stan’s back. Chests were nearly touching apart from the instances when one would take a deeper breath than expected, getting both a faceful of hot air and a shock of contact between them. Hips gyrated against him, working into the front of his pants, anxiously searching for a reaction and eyes made sure to keep locked to Stan’s drunken gaze all the while.

The curiosity of a seemingly straight man kept him locked in place. This dancer was exciting to say the least. Everything about him was just as intoxicating as the drinks, however, this was just for show. He was just out to get a reaction, which was nothing more than a job. Stan could see that. Nothing about the way his pelvis slip closer and closer to his own hips screamed interest. 

“Why’re you doin’ this? Who…. who are you?” 

Chapped lips were licked in an attempt to dampen them before leaning close again the drunk’s ear. The hot air that kissed his ear shot shivers up Stan’s spine, but he listened as best as his body would allow. 

“I want you to remain calm… c-can you do that for me?” 

It would be a lie to say that Stan didn’t tense at that. 

“What I’m about to do is--- is illegal, but we’ll be alright. Can you walk or-- uh… run? Can you do that?” 

Stan’s eyes widened at that. Illegal? What was he thinking? Despite having a lack of sense at this moment, he could still decipher when things were looking grim. The word illegal was a huge red flag. 

“What? What are you--” 

“I need you to take my hand and run when I give the signal. Keep calm and don’t look back.” 

A pair of freshly dampened lips move to kiss him on the cheek. It’s a chaste kiss, but it’s a reassurance that nothing bad would happen to him tonight. For some strange and confusing reason, Stan trusted that kiss. It might’ve been the drinks making up his mind for him, but he genuinely believed that this man would keep him safe. 

Despite not being able to see behind him, he could feel the other’s hand slip behind him, reaching under the bar for something. Whatever he had grabbed was now resting on the small of Stan’s back, hidden beneath a crease in his jacket. By the way it felt, it was some sort of curved object. It was solid without much give to it, and that alone was frightening. 

“Keep your-- your eyes on me darlin’ and run when I give the word.” 

The flirtatious gaze that had eased Stan’s confusions quickly narrowed in on someone behind him, the bartender perhaps. In a swift motion, the object being concealed in the drunk’s jacket was freed and pointed in the bartender’s direction. A similar smirk to the one he had seen before etched itself on the dancer’s face except it was paired with a furrowed brow. The click of a triggered left the entirety of the club seemingly silent before a gunshot followed suit. A collection of screams arose from the club-goers as they stood and watched in horror. 

Stan did his best not to tip over from the sudden ringing in his ear, but he did manage to crane his neck to get a look at the weapon in the other’s hand. To his own horror, it wasn’t like anything he had seen before. The gun was a slender thing, pristine and white in color with a few blinking lights on the side. The barrel was pointed to the rear leaving an almost vacuum like tip to the front. From the look of the design, there was absolutely no way to fire any bullets at all. It literally looked like some intergalactic vacuum nozzle. 

Fingers found their way beneath Stan’s chin once more, directing his face to meet the dancer’s. 

“Take my hand and run!” 

“B-Buh… y-you jus’....”

“I know-- I’ll explain later, but right now I need you to come with me.” 

Without much of a chance to oppose, the dancer grabbed his hand and yanked him off the stool. It collapsed to the floor the moment he flew from it. All of the drinks he had downed while being there had finally gotten to him leaving him stumbling along over couches, chairs, and tables as they passed. The firm grip on his hand didn’t break for a second. 

“Hurry up! They’re probably hot on our asses!” 

“Wha--- Who!?” 

“Again-- I’ll explain later! Just keep going!” 

A small curtained door towards the back of the main room lead them into a darkened hallway that would occasionally fill with bright white light when they passed a dressing room or the light of a lighter as it lit up a smoke. Empty cans and bottles littered the floor along with various articles of clothing that would disappear into the dark when hands moved to collect them. It was a den of iniquity at its finest. 

A curve in the hallway led to another stretch of back rooms all leading up to a door situated with a push bar. Stan’s “guide” forced his way through the door and yanked Stan along with him, needless to say that Stan was on the verge of being sick by now. 

Once out into the back alleyway, the frantic nature of the dancer made itself present. 

“Stan Pines, I need you to-- to be conscious for this, alright?” 

He knew his name? How in the world did he--

“You’ve had too much to drink and you think this isn’t real. Let me tell you buddy, this is as real as that shit hole you call a place to crash. It’s as real the six total drinks you consumed tonight. All of this is real. You can knock out once we’re out of this dimension.” 

From behind one of the trashcans, he pulled a large brown satchel. After digging through a number of leather straps, belts, and various pieces of lingerie, he found another pristine looking weapon of sorts. It was larger than the one under the bar, but was fitted with a light on top instead of on the sides. It continued to blink the more buttons he managed to press on the top console. 

“Nowhere’s safe anymore-- dammit!” The machine was pointed towards the wall and, in a flash, illuminated the alley in a green haze. A large pulsating hole covered the bricks of the wall before them and drenched them both in green as well. “Get in.” 

“Huh!?” 

“You heard what I said. Get in there. We’ll be safe there for a little while.” 

Silence and awe, again, kept Stan glued to his place. It took a growl and a violent grasp on his forearm to drag him forward. 

The transport was instantaneous. 

One moment, they’re standing in the dark and musky alleyway and the next, they’re in a shack. That’s all that can really be said about it. The walls, floor, ceiling-- all of it is held together by broken down boards. The green haze disappears within seconds and Stan is just about ready to vomit when he feels his body drop to the floor and ultimately give out on him. 

He’s out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've talked over a storyline with my friend who's going to be helping me format the story as well as provide the proof-reading for the rest of the chapters from here on out. Needless to say it's going to be hard seeing as we're moving apart from each other for four months, but we'll keep in close contact during that time. We'll be living together next semester so all's good. 
> 
> I'm going to try and post a new chapter every week, but forgive me if there's not up every Monday. That's just my goal. They might carry over a day or two depending on schedule.


	3. The Man: Rick Sanchez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mornin’ sunshine.” 
> 
> That voice? The tufts of blue hair that Stan had been dreaming of-- they belonged to an actual person. Of course, he remembered bits and pieces of that night, but nothing definitive. Of the things he did remember, the blue hair and the voice that whispered instructions into his ear were the two that stuck with him and helped him to identify the stranger. 
> 
> “You’re that-- that dancer from the club.”
> 
> A continuation of My Angel is the Centerfold

When Stan wakes up, he immediately finds himself vomiting. From what he can tell, he’s no longer on the floor and instead on some raised platform. It doesn’t take long for him to clock back out again. Time seems to go on endlessly, and when he wakes up for the second time, it’s starting to get dark. 

His vision’s no longer fuzzy, but instead, it hurts to look at things for long periods of time. It’s to be expected for a hangover like this. The throbbing pain in his temple is overwhelming. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.” 

That voice? The tufts of blue hair that Stan had been dreaming of-- they belonged to an actual person. Of course, he remembered bits and pieces of that night, but nothing definitive. Of the things he did remember, the blue hair and the voice that whispered instructions into his ear were the two that stuck with him and helped him to identify the stranger. 

“You’re that-- that dancer from the club.” 

“Very good, Pines.” 

There it was again: his name. He barely knew this guy a day and he could already put a name to his face. Had he told it to him at the club? Had there been some kind of visual indication on him sporting his name? Was he well known about the nearby campus? None of that seemed plausible to him, so he opted for asking. 

“How do you… know my name?” 

“Yeah you-- you do deserve some an--*BURRRRRP*-swers, don’t you.” 

There wasn’t much about the room, but there was a table that contained a flask, a personal computer, a bag, and the two guns. The contents of the bag were a mystery to him, but asking to take a look might’ve been too intrusive for the moment. The man reached for the flask, twisting the cap off and taking a long swig of whatever what inside. 

“The name’s Sanchez, Rick Sanchez. As you could probably tell… no, I’m not a dancer at that club, but the other night-- that was a one time thing, so--- so don’t go askin’ for that shit again, alright?” A threatening hand shook the flask, sloshing around the liquid inside before taking another hard gulp of it. “What I did in there-- y’know-- the bartender thing-- it’s… it’s a long story so I won’t bore you with too many details. To make it simple, let’s say it was going to be one of us either way and I didn’t want it to be me.” 

Ah, there they were: the memories. They came flooding back in an instant. Stan remembered the bouncer, the lights, the stench of sex, the drinks-- all up until the moment he heard the gun shoot the bartender in cold blood. The running bit afterwards was a blur, but he knew they had made it out through some ridiculous sci-fi escape plan that landed them in this shack. 

“I-- I don’t… this is all… I mean….” Words were escaping him. He had been witness to a murder! Sure he wasn’t a very good witness seeing as he had been drunk the entire time, but he remembered enough to testify should he need to. 

“Whoa there buddy! You really outdid yourself with the drinking. Feel free to knock back out for a little while. It’s late anyway and I need you at one-hundred percent. Can’t have you flaking out on me before we even get started.” 

By now, all Stan could hear were sounds. The words Rick was saying to him had no meaning whatsoever. Sure, he acknowledged that he had killed someone, but pushing that off to make sure he was properly rested didn’t sit well with him. Priorities were all over the place! 

With what little strength he could muster, he kicked his legs off of the edge of wherever he had been lying and set them on the floor. Now that he got a better look, he had been situated on a fold away cot. That must’ve meant that it was either there when they arrived, or Rick had set it up and moved him while he was out. The sentiment was appreciated-- well, if it could be called that. Fingers ran through oily hair, forcing it back on his head. “Whatever you’re on about, you’d best knock it off, alright? Using me as an accomplice in a murder then-- kidnapping me… you haven’t explained any of that at all. Why do you think I should trust you? I want to go home!” 

“Home? The pot shack? That place is your home?” 

It wasn’t like that. It was a roof over his head where he knew he’d be safe for the meanwhile. It seemed Rick felt the same of this ridiculous shack. For now, it would do. 

“I don’t have a home anymore.” 

“Which is why I’m trying to give you one, I mean, we’d be on the run and I won’t be able to tell you why for a little while, but it’s better than what you’ve got. I-- I see what y-y-you’ve got right now and it’s shit. Why not do something exciting. Why not d-do something *BURRRP* fucking insane!?” 

The definition of insane could have gone a number of different ways, but the thought of his bed back on campus was nothing but repetition and days held the same ridiculous routine. Each and every day could be predicted the moment he opened his eyes to the moment they closed at night. With this guy-- with Rick Sanchez, he was sure that whatever happened next would be a complete surprise. There was no telling what they’d do or where they’d go. What with that weird sci-fi blaster thing, they could do just about anything so long as Rick told him how and why it did what it did. Maybe he couldn’t understand it, but he sure did want to. 

“Tsk-- if you want to leave, why would I give a fuck, just know that I-- I’m asking you because I need you on my team. You might now want to now, then but you will soon. There’s no way around it, believe me.” Lips pursed before latching onto the tip of the flask and downing the rest of the what was inside. A good amount of it dribbled down the edges of his mouth and onto his shirt. Once finished, he tossed the flask across the room. It was no use holding onto it now that it was empty. He’d probably fill it up again later. “You and I coulda’ done some pretty great things, Pines, but I’ll send you back if you want. Don’t be surprised when someone knocks on your door to ask you about me.” 

A shaky hand reached towards the table for the portal gun. Instead of grabbing the larger of the two, he picked the smaller and, unbeknownst to him, set the blast and directed it towards the wall. 

The sight of the wrong gun set Stan in motion. In an instant, he had pushed himself from the cot and lunged at the other, knocking him to the floor. With a press of the trigger, a flash of light shot from the end of its nozzle like barrel and blew a hole in the ceiling. 

“The fuck!” A mess of blue hair was angrily forced out of his eyes. “I’m trying to help you! 

“There is a hole in the ceiling-- how the hell do you think that’s going to help? Hmm?” 

Both were seemingly startled by the unexpected result of grabbing the wrong gun, but they eased into it once they accepted that it was a simple mistake. 

“You moved me to that cot while I was out, right? Did you get any sleep at all during that time?”

Silence. 

“Answer me Rick: Did you or did you not get any sleep.” 

Hands rose, pressing into Stan’s shoulders and forcing him off. “When you’ve been pulling shit like this for as long as I have, y--y--you start to learn that you don’t need sleep.” 

Bullshit. 

“Did you think you could just-- convince me with that? You might’ve known my name before meeting me, but you don’t know me. I’m a con-man. I’ve pulled shit y’know. Why do you think I was sloshed all on my own on a Friday night? I’d give anything to go back, but I’m here, the smell of weed isn’t making me want to kill someone, and I’ve upgraded from a piss-stained, second-hand mattress to a foldaway cot. I’m content for the meantime-- so take this as your cue to accept this rare moment and get some fucking sleep. If you’re going to drag me anywhere else within the next twenty-four hours, I don’t want a zombie pulling the lead.” 

A few blinks of tear stained eyes (a result of whatever he was just drinking) left him at a loss for words. How could he possibly have the balls to come at his neck like that? For the time that Stan’s been conscious of he's been a real prick, but he wasn’t kidding around. He was honestly going to stick around, even if he had a roundabout way of saying it. 

“Come on-- I’ll help you up.” With roles now reversed, a hand was extended in the mysterious companion’s direction. “It’s just until sunrise… whenever that is. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. Consider it keeping watch.” 

Rick took a moment to think things over. On the one hand, if he got some sleep, he’d have a clear enough mindset to get some work done in the morning. On the other hand, he’d be vulnerable. Vulnerability was a weakness. His weaknesses were the easiest to exploit, and with him being who he was, those weaknesses could break him down to nothing. For some strange and confusing reason, Rick trusted Stan. They had just met, but Rick believed he had made the right choice in choosing him to be his partner in crime, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finals are officially over today!  
> I finished my final essay/presentation, final short film, and then I have three pieces I have to perform for acting. That should be fun. Immediately after I catch the train back home since I'm moved out of my apartment. It's going to suck because I'm going to miss everyone I've been living with. They're my fam now and it's going to be four months until I'm living with them again. Apart from that, I'm looking to get a job. I have an interview on Thursday and if I'm lucky, I'll get it! 
> 
> I'm going to be working on a filler chapter for next week so look forward to some backstory on Rick. It's going to be a doozy!


	4. It'll Take an Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, he took off, this time ascending a staircase and bolting around a corner only to be faced with another hallway. By then, he was already starting to feel the pressure of the job. Informant would more than likely be dubbed the bearer of bad news, especially in his case. However, this news wasn’t exactly unexpected. There had been trouble like this before. This time wasn’t like any other. The reign of dominance stretched from not only the order of authority, but outside organizations dealing with universal laws in areas that were to be exercised in secret and punished severely should anything cross those boundaries. It was a shame to say that this incident was the only one that went so far as to bring about inter-dimensional panic.
> 
> A continuation of My Angel is the Centerfold

There were hundreds— no— thousands, million, billions, TRILLIONS of them. They all walked around sporting the same face, the same eyes, the same hair, and the same genius intellect. Well, apart from a few, all were geniuses. Each and every one had the same walk, and if they were lucky, a small boy at their side. Signs and posters hung around on walls that blinked and shifted depending on the time of day, month, year, decade, and so on and so forth. They advertised strange products with strange names yet each citizen of the Citadel knew just what each one meant and how important it was to them.  


It was rare to see someone who _didn’t_ look everyone else. 

 

One of the many similar men shot from a sliding door. In his hands were a stack of papers and a small hard drive of sorts. As he ran, papers seemed to slip from his grasp, falling to floor. Upon realization, he’d double back and snatch them up before taking off again. Eyes averted themselves from his hurry, but couldn’t help but glance every now and again as he shout profanities in an attempt to get where he was going. It didn’t take him long to end up disorganized again and have to reorder his papers before running once more. It was a hilarious ordeal that brought more profanity from the onlookers. 

 

“ _Lose your footing dipshit?_ ”

“ _Who the hell made you paperboy?_ ”

“ _Good luck_ **not** _looking stupid!_ ” 

 

Comments aside, they said all the things he would have said should someone else have been in his shoes. His solution? A simple flip of the bird caught their attention. A few whooped and hollered, but most burst out in laughter. It was the obvious reaction. 

 

Again, he took off, this time ascending a staircase and bolting around a corner only to be faced with another hallway. By then, he was already starting to feel the pressure of the job. Informant would more than likely be dubbed the bearer of bad news, especially in his case. However, this news wasn’t exactly _unexpected_. There had been trouble like this before. This time wasn’t like any other. The reign of dominance stretched from not only the order of authority, but outside organizations dealing with universal laws in areas that were to be exercised in secret and punished severely should anything cross those boundaries. It was a shame to say that this incident was the only one that went so far as to bring about inter-dimensional panic. 

 

His pace picked up as he rounded the last corner and headed for the door at the end. It was a large, twenty-some-odd-foot-tall door latched together with golden emblem that nearly stretchedthe entirety of the door. Two men with identical features to the informant stood before the door. Their uniforms were suited with patches pertaining to their statuses as well as ones that directly corresponded to the organization they lived to serve. A long strap crossed their chests and linked to the belt around their waists. Guns sat in their gloved hands and eyes narrowed on the poor informant as he approached. 

 

“State your name, dimension, and business with the Council.”

 

After catching his breath, the informant straightened himself out and cleared his throat. 

 

“Rick Sanchez of Dimension C-102. I need to speak to the Council about the matter at hand. I have an update that needs to be heard.” 

 

Both of the guards exchanged gazes before motioning towards the door. With a gentle push, it opened to reveal a large ballroom of sorts. A tall podium held thrones containing what looked to be prestigious men, all of which sported the same hair, eyes, and mannerisms as the informant and guards. Other than that, the room seemed to be empty for the day. It was a rather strange occurrence. 

 

The informant, Rick Sanchez of Dimension C-102, stepped forward towards the small group of men. His hands clutched tightly to the stack of papers in his arms as well as the hard drive on top. 

 

“ _Earth Rick_ _C-102!_ ” The booming voice of one of the six echoed throughout the room, leaving the informant trembling. “You’ve come to— to see the Council on behalf of our Sector of Dimensions: E—*buuuuuurp*—arth Division. You had better be coming here today with some good news for a change C-102.”

 

Slowly, Rick C-102 withdrew into his papers, trying to hide himself, but it was too late. He had to give up what he had discovered. It was, after all, for the good of the Council. 

 

“I’m sorry your… your Rick-ness but it’s some pretty bad shit this time.” 

 

“How bad?” One of the six turned to his fellow five duplicates, almost as if hoping that his foreboding notion was mutual. 

 

“It seems that Earth Rick C-137 has *buuuuuurp* eliminated some of our eyes.” He stepped forward, presenting the folder to the Council. In an instant, it seemed to blip out of existence only to reappear in one of the Council members’ hands. All eyes turned to the further member as his eyes scanned the pages. Pink seemed to flood his cheeks, slowly turning deeper, DARKER with rage. “Not only that, he escaped with someone— unfamiliar to the Earth Division. Our spies couldn’t get a good look at him since… since C-137 was… literally… _all over him_.”

 

A second page was flipped containing more information and a few discreet photographs of a slender figure clad in leather lingerie winking in the direction of the camera. 

 

The folder was tossed to the floor, and a worried C-102 moved to collect the falling papers as best as he could. “HE KNEW!” The Rick reading the papers slammed his hands down onto the armrests of his throne before bringing a hand to his temple. “I can’t believe he— he was one step ahead of us!!” 

 

C-102 stood beneath them, eyes directed towards the Council. If he had only remained quiet, none of this would have happened. However, with news that Rick C-137 was out there with a second person, they were certainly in for a world of trouble. In fact, he was traveling with someone they didn’t know. It was a person they didn’t have records for and it certainly wasn’t one of their allies. It was a strange man that seemed to go along with C-137’s plan. All of it seemed to play out to C-137’s favor. And all of it angered to Council. 

 

“We can’t let him get away with it this time.” The second Rick on the Council spoke up. “I— I know that we’re not the only ones on this— this *buuuuuurp* issue but we have to get out there and reel his ass back in!” 

 

“And who’s going to go? Hmm? This is a delicate situation, dipshit!” The fourth Rick on the Council dropped his head into his hands. “We can’t just send an army out for him! There are billions— TRILLIONS of universes. It’s going to take forever to find him.” 

 

C-102 couldn’t help but dart his eye back and forth like watching a game of tennis. Each of the Ricks on the Council had something to say about the situation but none had a definite idea of where to go next. That was when he had an idea. The informant slowly lifted his arm, a single middle finger raised to grab their attention. The conversation refused to cease. 

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND—!” 

 

All attention shift.

 

“Look, you can sit up there and… and bitch at each other but that’s not going to fix the shit going on right… right now!We gotta pull out all the shots, including— The ONE.” 

 

At first, a look of confusion broke over the council, but soon, eyes widened, brows raised, and smiles tugged at the edges of each Ricks’ mouth. 

 

“It’s all up to the Council, but the best way to get C-137 is to use what he values most, and if he’s anything like us, he’ll definitely go out of his way for HER.” His portal gun was withdrawn from his pocket and forced into the port at the base of what seemed like a large projection screen. The moment he had set his portal alight, images flashed of what appeared to be a blonde, extremely attractive, lips wet and glossed over with a deep red paint. Her gaze was sharp. Her eyes looked like they could kill with a single glare. Overall, she was the perfect one for a mission like this. She was the woman that could make Ricks scream, cry, and jizz themselves if she willed it. A perfect assassin like this was the right way to go. 

 

And the Council voted unanimously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops-- this is a little late. Normally I'd post an update in the morning but I ended up getting a job! I'm still working out the schedule but it should take up a LOT of time. I'll do what I can to keep updates coming since it is the summer and I have at least ten more chapters laid out. I just have to write them! 
> 
> In the meantime, I'm so glad to see all the support for the series! The few comments I've gotten have made writing this so much more fun! I love seeing feedback and hearing what you guys think, what you want to see, you know-- stuff like that. 
> 
> It would totally help me to know what you want to see or what you want to happen. I have ideas, but it's always nice to get a second opinion and other ideas to throw into the mix. That's what I love about the Rick and Morty fandom. You can throw in just about anything and it's technically canon. 
> 
> More will be coming concerning a few new characters as well as a fanmade character that I've fallen in love with. She'll be here soon, I can promise that much!


	5. Moving House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick woke up in a similar way to Stan except his shock was verbal and the cold sweat was more evident. There really wasn’t any forewarning either. One moment, the room was silent apart from a few strange gurgling noises emanating from Rick’s throat and the next, a cacophony of shouts, gasps for breath, and a few curses when he finally realizes what he’s doing.
> 
>  
> 
> Eyes narrow in on the first thing he can find: Stan. 
> 
> A continuation of My Angel is the Centerfold.

Rick woke up in a similar way to Stan except his shock was verbal and the cold sweat was more evident. There really wasn’t any forewarning either. One moment, the room was silent apart from a few strange gurgling noises emanating from Rick’s throat and the next, a cacophony of shouts, gasps for breath, and a few curses when he finally realizes what he’s doing. 

 

Eyes narrow in on the first thing he can find: Stan. He was completely different from the lively personality that once straddled his lap and forced him to follow him into this…. Other dimension? He couldn’t tell. Stan hadn’t once looked out of the windows. When he thought to, he realized that there were none. Whatever was beyond the four wooden walls of the cabin, no one wanted anyone else to see. Getting in was only possible with that fancy portal gun. The other one, although it shot a hole in the ceiling, did nothing to ease his suspicions regarding whatever was just a barrier away.

 

The moment Rick woke up, Stan moved to calm him down. The eyes threw him for a loop and nearly froze him in his place. Rick looked--  _ angry _ . Of course, that could’ve been assumed judging by the narrow gaze and gruff grumbling under his breath that was more than likely pointed words directed at him in particular. However, the first thing spoken wasn’t rude at all. It was simply, “My flask’s empty.” It had been thrown across the room before Stan had convinced Rick to get sleep and it sat in the same spot. 

 

“What? Yeah-- it’s empty. You drank it all.” 

 

Another moment of silence was soon followed by more growling and grumbling. Only a few words managed to appear clear to Stan including: fuck, drink, shit, and a few other short words that didn’t hold any importance. However, it didn’t take long for Rick to get back into fighting form when he realized that if his flask was empty, that meant he couldn’t drink. It was hard to put two and two together, but he needed his alcohol levels to skyrocket. That was how he always worked and if he wasn’t there, he might as well be dead. 

 

“I need more-- get me that flask.” An outstretched hand motioned towards the empty flask before groping the air a few times, silently asking for it. “I  _ need _ it.” 

 

“No. You go get it.” 

 

With his hand still frozen in midair, Rick’s head slowly turned from the flask to the man clearly ignoring his orders. His lips remained parted, as if he was preparing to speak yet nothing was said. Eyes widened and pupils seemed to noticeably dilate. “The FUCK did you say to me Pines?” 

 

“Go… get it? It’s yours.” 

 

Lengthy legs swung over the edge of the cot, set themselves down on the floor, and lifted the taller of the two up to full height. He towered over Stan by a good few inches, enough to intimidate. “Then you’re going to  **stay here** .” His breath still reeked of alcohol. The closer he brought his face to Stan helped to enhance to smell. Truthfully, it was disgusting. “Can’t do one thing I ask-- then-- then how the fuck are you going to make it out there? I was looking for someone to follow directions. Guess I made a mistake.” In an instant he’s muscling his way past Stan to retrieve his flask and slip both guns off the table. One went into his back pocket and one remaining in his hand. Luckily, he had grabbed the right one this time. 

 

“Good luck getting home without me Pines.” His nimble fingers fiddled with the portal gun until selecting the right coordinates. Again, the vibrant green illuminated the room. That was it, the only way out, and Rick was going to leave him there. 

 

No. 

 

There was no way he was going to stay in there. Even if he didn’t want to follow orders, sticking with someone who knew what they were doing was the best bet. Rick offered him something far better than that stupid apartment, and throwing it all away to be trapped in a cabin wasn’t much better. In an instant, he had made up his mind. Like it or not, he was tagging along. 

 

Through the haze of blinding green, Rick was still standing there. With a turn of his shoulder and a flip of the bird he headed off into the portal. 

 

“WAIT!” 

 

Once again, Stan lept from his spot, tackling the stick skinny asshole that was apparently his companion now, and fell through the portal. A plethora of curses and profane statements flew from Rick’s mouth as he tried his best to force Stan off. They hadn’t even made it their destination. Apart from the last time, it seemed that they were travelling through what appeared to be a strange rift of sorts. All sorts of potential destinations flew past at ridiculous speeds, some more ridiculous than others. All of them looked completely insane. Multicolored turf with fantastical creatures seemed to be the constant, however some looked oddly familiar. There were places that looked like Earth with human like beings while others had variation with items of food, clothing, furniture, whatever you could think of was there in those portals. 

 

Without warning, they fell through one of them and onto a hardwood floor. It wasn’t as dark a wood as the cabin, but instead, it was laminated cedar. Stan hit the floor first, causing him to release Rick who tumbled away only to knock into a table which collapsed to the floor. A few chairs were rustled around but ultimately stood their ground. They had landed it what looked like an apartment. Everything looked remotely normal. That alone instilled hope. 

 

The two of them, instead of turning to face each other, resorted in groaning and attempting to make it back to their feet. 

 

“Why do you keep doing that!?” 

 

“Because you keep trying to do stupid things! Ever think about that?” 

 

“My  _ goodness _ \-- could there be any more noise in this household?”

 

A third and more defined voice echoed from down the hallway. “Rick, what have we talked about? This house is a sacred place of rest and relaxation. If you would like to take this squabble outside I will gladly allow it if you promise to make up and come back in with some sense.” This clearly wasn’t the first time Rick had brought someone here in order to argue. 

 

The voice was soon paired with a person who-- wasn’t a person at all. There were parts of him that were human like his face, his arms, his torso, and his legs, but everything else was-- birdlike. Stan’s breath hitched in his throat as he took in the way the wings that trailed behind the strange creature twitched and stretched as he made his way into the kitchen. Rick was still somewhat turned over in the corner, but he wasn’t as eye-catching as this guy. Was it a guy? Stan couldn’t even begin to think of where to _ look _ . 

 

“I do apologize for whatever he’s done. Sometimes the alcohol gets the better of him.” A hand extends towards him. With hesitation, Stan reaches to take it and soon he’s on his feet. Rick comes next. The same hand extends to him and helps him to his feet as well. 

 

“It-- It wasn’t the alcohol. This guy is-- is fucking insane! He’s tackled me twice in the last forty-eight hours!” Another pointed finger directs itself towards him. Luckily, Stan isn’t one to take things lying down. 

 

“The first time was to keep you from blowing a hole in the damn wall and the second was because you were going to leave me back there to die! You were going to leave him in a window and doorless prison to rot!” 

 

A muffled chuckle pressed free from Rick’s slender frame. “You think I was going to leave you there forever? As much as I wanted to, I would’ve come back.” The flask now sitting on the ground finds its way into Rick’s grasp before making its way over to the nearest cabinet. From it, Rick selects a bottle containing a strange green liquid. It’s more of a gelatinous substance, but it still fills his flask nonetheless. His lips then curl around the tip of the bottle itself before he downs a mouthful. “You see-- whether you *buuuuuurp* know it or not, I need you Stan Pines. You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass, but I-- I’d rather have one person be a pain in my ass than billions or-- or trillions.” Lord knows that was the case already. 

 

The strange bird-looking creature stepped up to grab the bottle from Rick’s hand and cap it. “As comforting as it is to know that the two of you are working this out with words rather than actions, I’m still going to have to ask you to take it outside. Come back when things are resolved and then you can take me through the steps of human introductions.” The creature did its best smile despite having it look extremely uncomfortable. Using the word ‘human’ to describe the initial action of introducing a new person to someone else begged the question of whether or not this person was a person at all. With all these questions swirling around in his head, Stan felt faint once more. 

 

Before he could hit the ground, Rick had managed to drag him down the hall and out through the front door. It looked difficult for Rick to actually own up to his previous words and actions, but for the bird-creature, he’d do as was asked. 

 

The door was shut behind them. As hard as it was for Rick to be calm about this, so was it for Stan to stand there and try not to clock his companion over the head. The two stood in silence for a few moments hoping-- praying that this would end almost as soon as it started. 

 

Both men refused to look at each other. 

Rick, however, was the first to speak. “Look… when I said I needed you… I… I really do.” His attention was focussed on the leaves of one of the trees the house was perched on. (Stan had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be talking with someone. His attention was focused on the fact that the house was perched up in the trees to begin with.) “I want to explain why-- what I wouldn’t give to get shit like this off my chest… but this is bigger than just me… hell… it’s bigger than the both of us combined. Give me some time and--- *hic* I’ll try and piece everything together.” 

 

Arms crossed Stan’s chest. After realizing that yes, someone was talking to him, and yes, he was supposed to be angry, he decided to play it off as he had before. “You don’t even know what we’re doing? I’m doing my best to trust you but you’re making it pretty damn hard.” Eyes finally move from the depths beneath them to the frizzy haired maniac across from him on the makeshift porch. (How did anyone get down from there? That was a question for another day.) 

 

“Trust me? Shit Pines! I’m not asking you to trust me-- I’m asking you to work with me here! I told you that I needed your-- your help, not your trust. If you start to trust me… chances are I’m going to let you down. The guys in there… I’ve let them down before;  _ never again _ .” 

 

Suddenly, the air about them ceases to tense. The anger that once hung heavy evaporates into an understanding of the same feeling. It might not’ve been the same circumstances that Rick was talking about, but Stan knew what it was like to let people down. He knew what it was like to have that kind of trust one minute and then have it disappear the next. Years and years of building that up could be shattered in an instant. He knew how it felt. Rick didn’t need to explain. 

 

“If you don’t want me to trust you-- fine, I won’t.” The arms that once folded across his chest slowly unfold. One arm drops to his side as the other lifts to rest on the other’s shoulder. He wasn’t normally one for physical contact, but it was enough of a reassurance. “Lord knows I hate you right now-- but I can’t say I know you well enough to justify it. You said you needed help, I get that. You said you’d give me something better than that crack house, thanks. I haven’t thanked you yet, but there it is. Don’t let it get to your head, alright? It’s a one time deal.” 

 

The sudden contact was startling. No one really touched him like that, if at all. As much as he wanted to come back at him with something defending himself and the sentiment that was crawling up his spine, he refrained. He didn’t know Stan that well either, so there wasn’t much for him to base his anger on. It was mostly an anger directed at himself, but no one needed to know that. “Yeah-- yeah… *hic* whatever. Just-- get your ass back inside. If we stand out here for too long, Birdperson’s going to think we’re out here necking.” 

 

“Birdperson? So that’s it’s name?” 

 

“ **His** you ignorant ass…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first time I've had someone in the google doc while I was working on this! YAS! Shoutout to Olivia who sat in the chat on google docs and yelled at me when I would pause to think of what to write next. You need to come to these writing parties more often and help me out when I get stuck. Two heads are better than one! 
> 
> I've noticed that a few more people are jumping onto the bandwagon and are starting to read this series. 
> 
> To those people: HIYA! Welcome to the party! 
> 
> Since work is killing me during the week, it's going to be hard to get the time to sit down and write out entire chapters like this, but with help, I should be able to keep a schedule going. (Hopefully-- who knows) 
> 
> Next chapter should flesh out a bit more about Rick's crime-- Oooh ahhhh~~


	6. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before too long, the conversation had shifted towards him. Expectant eyes awaited a reply to a question or statement that he hadn’t even bothered to hear. After sitting there in a dumbfounded manner for more than a few seconds, Rick had to repeat himself. “Pines… You’re stickin’ around for the-- the whole nine yards, right? You’re not planning on getting all-- all b-blue balled on me, right?”
> 
>  
> 
> Even though they were separated by a doorway, the conversation seemed like it took up both rooms. It was as if Stan was crossing the bridge from his place on the couch to the kitchen where both Rick and Birdperson stood-- expecting an answer.

It had been silent for a good while. Although Rick was talking, things seemed rather muted. Stan’s gaze had snagged on his companion-- Birdperson was it? He didn’t look remotely like an alien creature. He looked like a guy. Just a normal guy in a stupid costume. Of course, he wouldn’t say that aloud for fear of coming across as rude. Who knows what would offend someone like that. 

 

Before too long, the conversation had shifted towards him. Expectant eyes awaited a reply to a question or statement that he hadn’t even bothered to hear. After sitting there in a dumbfounded manner for more than a few seconds, Rick had to repeat himself. “Pines… You’re stickin’ around for the-- the whole nine yards, right? You’re not planning on getting all-- all b-blue balled on me, right?” 

 

Even though they were separated by a doorway, the conversation seemed like it took up both rooms. It was as if Stan was crossing the bridge from his place on the couch to the kitchen where both Rick and Birdperson stood-- expecting an answer. 

 

What was he to say? He had only just been dragged along without any kind of consent. Was that illegal? Was this technically kidnapping? He had agreed back in the cabin and now it suddenly felt--  _ natural _ . It felt like he was meant to be there. As stupid as it sounded, he felt whole. 

 

“You crazy? If anyone’s got blue balls it’s you! Let’s hope the curtains don’t match the drapes-- if you get what I’m saying.” It was a poor attempt to crack a joke. He realized the moment Birdperson’s eyes narrowed in on him. 

 

“What does the state of his interior decorating have to do with genitalia?” 

 

Another moment of silence passed between the three. Clearly Stan’s sense of humor would get them nowhere. However, he noticed Rick smirking out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“Nice try Pines. We’ll see how far you get once-- once we get the ball ro-*buuurp*-lling.” With a grin, a gulp of the contents now filling his flask, and a hand gently patting Birdperson on the shoulder, he made his way into the living room. There was a bit of space on the other side of the couch so Rick made himself as comfortable as he could. Stan, on the other hand, found himself feeling immediately uncomfortable with the newfound arrangements. Acting snarky from a room away was easy. Now, having someone besides him immediately changed him. 

 

The same hand that have shoved off Birdperson now moved to rest on Stan’s shoulder. “Look, he-- he-- he doesn’t know things like we do. At least he’s giving us a place to cra--*buuurp*--sh until we can plan our next move.” 

 

“And that’s-- what exactly?” 

 

“That’s what we have to figure out dipshit.” The flask met his lips once more. “It might take a few days, but BP and Squanch are down with us hanging around. Don’t worry, they’ve got a guest room upstairs. Normally, it’d be my place, but they were good enough to get one of those inflatable thingies. Don’t know how they managed to set it up-- but it should be good to sleep on.” A grin and a pat of the back was his best attempt at reassurance. Whether it was working or not could definitely be argued. 

 

The glass of ‘water’ that filled Stan’s own glass hadn’t been touched, however, he tilted the glass in his hands, watching the liquid slosh about. He had moved from one bachelor pad to another, only this time he was holed up with an alcoholic and a half-man, half-bird alien creature. Whoever this ‘Squanch’ guy was would probably have his head spinning, but for now, he’d take it for what it was: an upgrade. 

 

“I know you don’t have any clothes and-- hell, I doubt mine’ll fit you, but I’m sure there’s something upstairs for you to borrow--” 

 

“No, I’m good.” Stan set his glass on the small coffee table (at least that’s what he thought it was) and settled back against the cushions. “Don’t sleep with pajamas.” 

 

His statement warranted a cock of the brow and a stubborn attempt not to smirk. “Oh yeah? What’s your preference? Am I gonna get…  _ commando _ or-- or what?” Another sip from his flask followed. 

 

“Hell no. One night with you is enough. Just point me in the direction of the guest room. I’m going to bed.” 

 

Rick hesitated a moment, pursing his lips in defiance, but finally gave in. “Head upstairs, go down to the end of the room, try not to trip on any of Birdperson’s… belongings, and make a right. There should be a mattress and one of those blow up things. If not, just take the bed. I’ll figure something out.” 

 

“Thanks… Goodnight Rick.” He did what he could to smile. It was hard when he was terrified under the surface. Once he managed to finally get some alone time, he’d try and mentally piece things together. 

 

The trip up the stairs was long and arduous. The design of these stairs was absolutely ridiculous. He followed Rick’s directions, watching his steps through the larger room at the top of the staircase containing what looked like a large bird’s nest and a few other pieces of furniture that were vaguely illuminated by the moonlight that shone in through the skylight. It shone from some eight or so feet off the ground giving the room a much larger feel than was probably necessary. His feet felt around for possible tripping hazards and, out of a weird stroke of luck, he didn’t find anything the entirety of the walk to the other side of the room. The door on the right made little to no noise and soon he was finding his way into a bed of some sort. He didn’t care much about the inflatable matress. He was too tired to even bother looking for it. In fact, he didn’t even bother to take his clothes off. The moment he hit the bed, he was out like a light. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was an odd number of hours later when Stan was awoken by the sound of shuffling. It wasn’t anything too disturbing, just the sound of leather rubbing up against leather and belts clinking against belts. Rick had probably just come upstairs. Great. 

 

Normally, he’d be upset, but he was in a bed with a roof over his head and the sweet smell of foreign air filling his lungs. 

 

“Hey--” It was all he could get out without scaring the shit out of whoever was in the room. 

 

“Hey.” So it was Rick. Instead of what he was wearing before, he had on some sort of baggy shirt that hung low on his shoulders. He had managed to find the inflatable mattress and was doing his best to cover it with a blanket. There didn’t seem to be any sheets lying around. “You stole my bed.” 

 

“Sorry… I just sort of… knocked out the moment I sat down.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Just go the fuck to sleep. Stop making me feel bad for waking you up, okay?” The shuffling noises continued. It took about thirty seconds before Rick settled in at long last. 

 

“I can’t now. When I’m up, I’m up.” 

 

“Then don’t say anything and let me go to sleep.” All went silent once more apart from Rick who turned hopeless on the air mattress trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t make him look ridiculous. He ultimately found himself grumbling under his breath before turning on his back to face the ceiling. “Now I can’t go to sleep. Thanks Pines.”

 

“Not my fault. That’s on you.” Now he too was situated on his back, studying the way the lights seemed to dance along the walls. Believe it or not, things were so much more magical here than back home. “Where are we?” 

 

“Hmm?” The shuffling started up again. “What do you mean? We’re at Squanchy and Birdperson’s house. D-- Didn’t I tell you that already?” 

 

“No no-- I get that. I mean  _ where  _ are we. There’s no way we’re anywhere in the United States.” 

 

“We’re on Bird World. You’re right, this isn’t the United States. Very perceptive.” 

 

Bird World huh? That made a bit more sense. Guess that meant people here weren’t people at all if the name was anything to go by. “So what you’re saying is, we’re on another planet.” 

 

“Try another universe.” 

 

“Another what? Universe? You’re… you’re kidding.” In an instant he was turning onto his side. Despite not being able to properly see the person he was talking to, he would’ve much rather known he was talking to someone that out into the open air. “This is another universe like-- like Earth doesn’t exist anymore?” 

 

“It does.” The shuffling continued. Rick had managed to turn onto his side as well. He had more of a view of Stan, but it was still pretty dark. “It’s just filled with different things. I-- I don’t really know how to explain it cause I’m dead tired but there are billions or… trillions of universes out there. There are infinite possible combinations of people, places, and things that it’s impossible to try and narrow them all down. This just happens to be a universe where Earth is inhabited by Bird People. I’m here a lot cause I used to be in a band with these guys. They’re my version of family.” 

 

“Don’t you have one out there in one of these universes then-- like, an actual family or something?” 

 

It was enough to draw a muffled chuckle from Rick’s lips. “Oh yeah, believe it not, there’s plenty of universes out there filled with different possible variations of me. I’ve seen far too many. There’s a me out there that’s a-- a rock god, one that’s a robot, one that’s a cowboy-- truthfully, I could do without him. The getup looks like one of those cheap ass halloween costumes.” Instead of getting angry, he was holding back laughter. “No matter, they’re all a bunch of assholes. I’m an asshole and so are they. Might wanna learn that now Pines.” 

 

The shuffling stopped completely and the conversation ceased. What more was there to say? Telling him off would call for more aggression, besides, they were both tired as it was. 

 

“You know-- I’d take one of myself over a duplicate anyday.” And with that, the silence was broken again. “With one of you, you wouldn’t have anyone to compete with. There wouldn’t be another person staring you back in the mirror when you remember you’re not the only one. You wouldn’t be constantly reminded that you’re just a copy.” 

 

Even if it was dark, Rick managed to furrow his brow. “You’re talking like you know what I’ve dealt with Pines.” 

 

“Maybe not the whole intergalactic fever dream you’re talking about, but I know enough to know what it’s like to wake up with the knowledge that somewhere out there is a guy wearing your face. Maybe there might be a few differences but-- but you’re able to do similar things. You’re able to walk the same roads, make the same decisions, hell-- you could even have the same life if you wanted. But just like you said, there are infinite universes and infinite different versions of Earth. Who knows, maybe I’ll find an Earth where I can be-- no. You know what. It’s… it’s late. I’m keeping you up. You said it yourself: ‘Go the fuck to sleep’.” 

 

He left Rick at a loss for words. 

 

What more was there for him to say? Clearly he was missing something. 

 

“Yeah… yeah I guess I did say that. Uh-- Goodnight?” 

 

“Goodnight Rick.” 

  
Silence took over the room once more until the two were passed out once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the discover of Stanchez playlists on 8tracks, I think it's quite possible that I'll be delving deeper into my writing. The idea of having background music to set the mood has always helped, but in this case it has really driven the chapter. 
> 
> Since I have a lax week from work, I'm going to be trying to jump ahead and write some more to keep on the back-burner for when I need to post them in future weeks. I'm going to keep trying to get them up on Mondays, which seems to be working out. 
> 
> Again I want to thank everyone who's read this so far, stuck around for the new chapters, left kudos, comments-- all of that is so awesome! Thank you all so so so much!


	7. What Had Happened Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one was in the room when Stan woke up. He thought he saw Rick for a moment but it was just a shirt bunched up on his companion’s pillow. Oh yeah, he had slept on the floor. Stan stretched his arms above his head, yawning before settling back into his bed-- Rick’s bed. He had originally thought he was at home, wherever that was, but after getting a good look at the rest of the room in the light, he realized where he was. He was in a treehouse. Good god-- a TREEHOUSE!

No one was in the room when Stan woke up. He thought he saw Rick for a moment but it was just a shirt bunched up on his companion’s pillow. Oh yeah, he had slept on the floor. Stan stretched his arms above his head, yawning before settling back into his bed-- Rick’s bed. He had originally thought he was at home, wherever that was, but after getting a good look at the rest of the room in the light, he realized where he was. He was in a treehouse. Good god-- a TREEHOUSE! 

 

He brought a fist to his eyes, and after rubbing the sleep from them, he sat himself up. He’d face to face everyone downstairs eventually, so why not get it over and done with. 

 

Once out of bed, he finally got a good look out of the window. He couldn’t see the ground, which had his stomach doing flips.

 

“Jesus--” 

 

Maybe stepping away from the window was a better idea than searching for any sign of the ground. In an attempt to back up, his foot caught on the edge of Rick’s air mattress and tumbled back onto the floor. The commotion was enough to gather the attention of whoever was standing in the doorway. 

 

“ _ What the-- _ ” 

 

To Stan’s surprise, it wasn’t Rick. It wasn’t even that strange Birdperson character. It was a cat, right? He did his best to cock his head to get a better look at the thing. 

 

“ _ RICK! WHO THE SQUANCH IS THIS!? _ ” 

 

Stan could tell it was screaming at him, but he was too busy trying not to scream himself. However, the attempt didn’t go over well. 

 

“RICK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?” 

 

A moment of silence was quickly followed by a pair of footsteps that echoed up the stairs and towards the door. Of course, it was Rick. Instead of the clothes he had on the previous day, he had on a baggy band t-shirt and was parading around in his underwear. 

 

“Oh-- whoops. M-- My bad. Squanchy… Stan. Stan, this is Squanchy. He lives here too. I probably should’ve told you… or something. But look, everything’s okay. Get up off the floor already… the-- the hell is wrong with you?” Arms crossed his chest and he leaned himself up against the doorframe behind the cat thing--  _ Squanchy _ . 

  
  


It was embarrassing to have to pick himself up off the floor, but he managed it without falling back over. There was a fair amount of orange fuzz on his shirt and pants which lead him to believe it was from Squanchy. How did he not notice a bright orange cat wandering around the house? Was he really  _ that  _ out of it last night? 

 

Rick was already on his way back down the stairs which left Stan with Squanchy. It didn’t take long for his new companion to turn back to him and scramble up the front of him. Nonetheless it frightened the shit out of Stan. The cat had bunched his fist in his shirt and brought his face close, not too close, but close enough. “I don’t what Rick’s done this time, but you make one wrong step and I’ll squanch you up-- you got that?” 

 

_ Squanch _ ? What the hell did that even mean? 

 

“I don’t know what you want buddy. I was dragged into this. You gotta believe me!” 

 

A voice suddenly called up the stairs. For once, he was extremely pleased to hear the strange baritone that was Birdperson. 

 

“Squanchy-- Stan-- Rick requests our presence at the table. He’s calling a meeting of sorts and needs you both downstairs.” 

 

After another awkward moment of making eye contact with Squanchy, the fist imbedded in his shirt removed itself. Squanchy dropped to the floor and headed downstair first. It took Stan a moment to gather himself. He was still frightened, even though he held himself as best as he could. 

 

Stan carefully made his way down the stairs, if you could even call it that. In truth, it looked like a bundle of twigs going in a spiral from one part of the tree house to the floor below. How had he managed to make it up last night? Going downstairs was different. In the end, he had to force himself to go one step at a time to try not to fall through the large gaps in between twigs that divided each step. 

 

The other three were already situated around the kitchen table when he got there. Birdperson sat on the end, a mug in his hands and a bowl of what appeared to be worms in front of him. Rick was situated in the kitchen, a joint in his fingers and the window wide open. Squanchy glared at him from besides Birdperson, but Stan couldn’t really be bothered. He needed to stick by the people or-- creatures -- he knew would look out for him. 

 

“Finally--” The joint was tossed from the window as if it were nothing at all. “You good Pines? I’ve got some… y’know stuff to go over with everyone.” Rick’s slender figure slipped past him to the open chair at the other end of the table. There was still a fair amount of bench space for Stan but he elected to stand, besides, he didn’t want to sit next to Squanchy that much anyway. 

 

Rick propped his feet up onto the table despite the eye-rolls that came from both Birdperson and Stan consecutively. Despite the severity of the conversation, he was feeling calmer than average. 

 

“You had something you wanted to talk with us about Rick?” Birdperson settled his mug down on the table and laced his fingers together. “You were excited this morning. I have not seen you this excited since the time you managed to… what was the word you used?” It took him a moment to remember the word, but it suddenly came rushing back. “Ah yes, the time you ‘scored’ with that fan in the back of our tour bus after she asked you to autograph her right breast.”

 

Again, Stan managed to make a face in reaction to something Rick’s said or done. Even the mention of a past action was enough to get him to scrunch his face in disgust. Rick was definitely a wild card alright. 

 

“OH SHIT! Yeah-- yeah I remember that now. Fuuuuuuuuuck it was the blonde. Yeah, yeah it was the blonde girl.” It was as if he had done this on a regular basis. How wonderful it was to know him. “But never mind about that. I’m talking about something bigger. Something bigger and something far BETTER is getting ready to go down and-- and I need all of you on board, got that? This is a team effort. You got that Squanchy? No pussying out.” 

 

Squanchy’s yellow eyes narrowed in on Rick and moved back to Stan without a second thought. “Yeah-- yeah… not gonna do that Rick. Promise. You can squanch on me.” It was a silent play at Stan, almost as if he was testing his loyalty to Rick as well. They barely knew each other so it was only natural to have doubts. 

 

“Now, what I’m about to tell you should stay between us. No telling, no tattling, no gossiping, rumors are off the table. Got that?” Again, the other three in attendance nodded in acknowledgement. “Good. So, let’s make this short and sweet, shall we?” 

Rick stood up, kicking the chair back so he could move to grab a piece of paper lying on the countertop by Stan’s side. With a grin and a wink, he held the paper up in front of him. Scribbled on it in what looked like black sharpie were the words ‘Time Travel’. It really was as simple as he wanted it to be. 

 

“Time Travel?” Birdperson moved closer as if to make sure Rick really meant what he wrote. 

 

“Well… yeah. time travel-- that’s what it-- it says and that’s what it is.” 

 

Stan also moved to get a better look at the paper. “What about time travel is so important?” 

 

“What’s so important about it? Glad you asked Pines. You were worth the effort to track down-- asking the important questions. I’m in the process of figuring out how to travel through time.” His words followed with a dramatic flourish of his hands and the release of the paper. It was his own little play on a mic drop. 

 

The three remaining members of the group meeting glanced from each other, to Rick and then to the paper on the floor. It all seemed a bit too surreal and, frankly, childish to say the least. 

 

Stan was the first to say, or rather, do anything. It started as a snicker which grew to a chuckle then full blown laughter. He could barely stop to take a breath. All eyes had moved from Rick and the paper to the stranger standing in their kitchen. Almost a minute later, he was finally beginning to gain his composure again. “I’m sorry-- I’m sorry that was…  _ oh god _ … that was great. Truly, that was something.” He was now grinning and clapping like the whole thing was a joke. 

 

“I’m not joking Pines, I’m serious. How else would you be here?” 

 

The laughing subsided almost instantly. “What? I’m here cause you picked me up at a club.” 

 

“Exactly. You don’t think I just-- grabbed the first guy I saw and dragged him through space? I knew where to find you. Well, technically I-- I guessed and guessed right. I need you to figure this shit out Pines.” He reached again for something on the countertop, but instead of another paper, he grabbed for his flask. It was probably full again. What of, Stan would never truly know. 

 

“What? Me? Help you figure out how to travel in space? You’re insane!” 

 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that, but I’m like-- eighty percent sure I need you in order to figure this out.” He twisted the cap and took a long sip. “Come on-- I saw you. I actually SAW you. I couldn’t quite get through time but I could see through it. For a split second I *hic* managed to see through time and I saw you, at that club. Is that not fucking mental?”

 

It was, it was pretty mental. Overall, it seemed a bit strange that of all the things he had managed to see, it was him. But, that couldn’t be right at all. He was asking for him to help him figure out how to do the impossible. Well, now that he thought about it, he was in some ridiculous universe some number of universes and even galaxies away from the earth, HIS earth. There were impossible things that he had witnessed, so the idea of time travel was just another idea he had yet to experience. 

 

“And how am I supposed to help you time travel, hmm? Do I look like the kind of guy who knows all that sci-fi nerd shit? I mean I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m not guaranteeing anything. Hell, I’ll probably end up screwing everything up.” 

 

He shrugged, Rick Sanchez simply shrugged at him. “Even if you can’t, I saw you through time and here you are. I brought you here and I’m going to make good use of you while you are. Now, I said it once and I’m going to say it again: I need you all with me on this. You promised you’d stick with me on this, and-- and that’s a thing, right? Your promises are like a-- a blood pact. You’re sticking through to the end, got it?” 

 

The rush of nerves that had him worrying out of his mind were the same nerves that had Stan nodding a second time. “Course, what else am I gonna do?” Go back home? No way. He was instead going to put his life on the line to travel through time. If he could, there was a chance he could… no. No that was the sci-fi rule of thumb when traveling through time. Never mess with the past. 

 

“So you need us, but what do you need us to do?” Squanchy had butted in. He had a point. Stan was supposed to help with the actual discovery of time travel, so what were the two others supposed to do? 

 

Another sip of the flask went down with a sour face, but Rick brushed it off. “You’re gonna hate to hear this, but the Council’s going to come after me. I need you guys to keep them off of my tail. If I’m right, they’re probably on their way right now. You see, I-- I sorry… *buuuuurp* shot one of their sets of eyes.” The level of calm was uncanny. 

 

“You murdered one of the Council’s spies? Rick, that’s a crime in and of itself. Why would you do something like that?” It was Birdperson’s only attempt to try and make sense of the entire situation. 

 

“Truthfully, it’s a rule in the Council that we’re not allowed to mess with--- and fuck up --- time. We can jump through space as much as we want as long as you report to have your portal gun checked. It’s a stupid rule, but hey, whatever.” 

 

“And they’re after you because you’re trying to discover time travel?” 

 

“That’s part of it-- but that’s a story for another day. Right now, *hic* I’m doing something they don’t want and I shot one of their guys. That’s enough of a re--*buuuuuurp*--ason to come after me, so we should be working fast to come up with a plan. Knowing them, it’s going to be a whole big deal. They’ll send like-- five or so Ricks with this speech planned out before attempting to cuff me. If I’m out of here in time, I want you two to lead them somewhere, anywhere. I don’t care where as long as it’s not after me.” 

 

“You want us to lie to you?” The look in Birdperson’s eyes was almost hurt. He didn’t want to lie to a friend. 

 

“It’s me but it’s not me-- how many times have I told you this BP, you’ll always know which me is the real me. I’m the only one who can’t take them and this fucking interdimensional hub they’ve created. If you ever meet a me who’s down for this incestral masturbatory orgy they call a community then it’s definitely NOT ME.” 

 

Throughout the entirety of the exchange between the three, Stan couldn’t help but find himself lost. He could pick out bits and pieces, but none of it made sense. He thought he had it until Rick spit out ‘incestral masturbatory orgy’. 

 

“Hold on-- hold everything! Someone want to explain?” 

 

“Yeah Rick, slow the squanch down for the newbie over here.” If he wasn’t sitting down, Stan would’ve probably throttled the cat. 

 

For something like this, it’d be easier to have Stan sit down. A hand motions for Stan to scoot into the seat he had vacated. “I’ll make it as simple as I can, alright?” 

 

Stan hesitated for a moment, a good LONG moment and finally moved to sit down. 

 

“You know how I told you about all those universes? You know how I say I can go from one to another and how there are infinite versions of me?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Well, I know a good amount of those versions of me. There’s a universe dedicated entirely to me and what we-- I do. It’s governed by a council. It’s THE Council. The one and only Council of Ricks. The biggest and mo--*buuuuuurp*--st important Ricks sit on that Council and tell the rest of us how to-- to do things. And me? Yeah, they don’t like me very much. They’re after me to make sure I don’t figure out time travel. They don’t want me ripping a hole in space and time, so they’re going to be trailing us. That was them at the club if you can remember.” 

 

Now that Stan thought about it, there were a good amount of people chasing after him. He didn’t see their faces, but he knew that they were all together and coming after them. “They were there-- at the club?” 

 

“There you go! Good job Pines!” A hand playfully messed with his hair before Rick continued. “They’re still after us y’know. I didn’t exactly do a bang up job of getting them off our trail.” 

 

“And you chose to come here?” Squanchy couldn’t help but joke on his words. “Rick, they’re YOU. They’ll know you came here. If we’re lucky we’ll get a few hours to get the two of you out of here. Do you know where you’re going next?” 

 

“No idea Squanchy-- I thought we’d have more time here-- SHIT.” 

 

“Do you think Unity would let you stay with them for a while?” At least Birdperson was trying to help. 

 

Rick was already downing the rest of his flask just in time to refill it immediately afterwards. “No-- no… Unity and I had a bit of a falling out. Can’t go back just yet. We’re taking a break and it would just be… *buurp* y’know-- awkward and what not.” 

 

“Do you know anyone else you can go stay with?” 

 

There were plenty of people Rick would say with, but none of them would warm up to the idea of him crashing in through their living room with a stranger by his side and a crop of soldiers on his heels. In fact, the simple idea that they could be there at any minute was enough to get the stress levels rising. 

 

“So what do we do?” Stan had pushed himself from the chair as well and was pacing back and forth in the doorway between the kitchen and the little living space on the other side. “I mean I could hide you at my place but I can’t promise the guys there would do well with keeping secrets.” 

 

“It’s fine-- it’s fine.” Instead of drinking from the flask, he curled his lips around the bottle and downed a mouthful. “God… this isn’t going to be enough. It’s never enough.” There wasn’t much they could do apart from grab their things and head out. They’d jump from place to place while they still could until they found a place to stay. That’s the only safe option for them now. 

 

“Stan, I need you to run upstairs real quick and grab my clothes off the chair. There’s a gun on the floor, should be *buuurp* white and shit…. Put it in the bag with my computer and get back down here as quickly as you can. I need to get in touch with a few people.” 

 

It was his first name instead of his last, which hyped up the severity of the situation. Not only that, Stan did exactly as Rick asked the minute he asked it. It turned out that he could listen and take directions as they came. That alone impressed Rick. 

  
By the time Stan had gotten upstairs, each of the items he was sent to collect was exactly where Rick had described. The bag was packed, the clothes were in his arms, and there was a new figure standing in the doorway. It wasn’t Rick or Birdperson or-- hell -- even Squanchy. It was a girl. She was shorter than him, dressed sharply in what looked like white leather. And in her hand, was a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was meaning to post this yesterday but I ended up WRITING it yesterday. 
> 
> This past week hasn't been the best for me mentally and I doubt that this coming weekend is going to be the same. There's a possibility that work is going to prevent me from going to Wizard World Comic Con and if I'm lucky I can still go to this volunteering thing I promised to do. (By promised, I mean my mom said 'You'll do it, right?') If I said no then she'd get on my back about it. 
> 
> Anyway-- SHE'S HERE! FINALLY! Ah yes she's finally here and things are definitely going to get interesting from here on out. More action more excitement-- more elaboration on the blonde that had Rick sign her right breast. Promise!


	8. A Pistol with Curves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one was prepared for the sound of six sets of feet parading around the Citadel-- no, not parading: marching. The six members of the Council of Ricks were all marching their way through hallway after hallway. All of them marched with a ferocity in their step and a fervent rage in their eyes. If they were going to strike up a deal they were going to have to hold quite the presence.

No one was prepared for the sound of six sets of feet parading around the Citadel-- no, not parading:  _ marching _ . The six members of the Council of Ricks were all marching their way through hallway after hallway. All of them marched with a ferocity in their step and a fervent rage in their eyes. If they were going to strike up a deal they were going to have to hold quite the presence. 

 

The Rick leading the pack stepped down a flight of stairs leading to a dimly lit room. It extended a good twenty or so feet and stretched into a ceiling so dark that it was impossible to see where it ended. 

 

In the center of the room was a large carpet-- a HUGE carpet, stretching nearly the entire width of the room. Every now and again, the wool would spin, changing colors and patterns but remained fixed in the same shape. Across it were various items of furniture, a long table fitted with two chairs and covered with splatters of various substances. No one could really identify them, nor did they want to. There was a low set of pillars chipped in various places. Bloody handprints covered two of the four and a third was nearly covered in small, reddish marks all at about eye level. Between the pillars sat a bed, messed and unmade. 

 

A large arm chair sat a ways away. A few large pieces of fabric were draped across the back that acted as a cover for the figure sitting atop them. Slender legs crossed over one of the arms of the chair. Each were donned with metallic heels so sharp they could pierce flesh. 

 

“This had BETTER be good.” 

 

Each council member couldn’t help but run their eyes over her. Her looks were mesmerising, she was their secret weapon after all. 

 

Manicured nails clicked against a little black tube before twisting a bit of lipstick from it. “I thought I told you not to come unless it was an emergency. It _ is _ an emergency right?” The tip of the lipstick painted her lips blood red, the same as the marks on the column by her bed. 

 

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” One of the Ricks found himself piping up despite being absolutely frozen where he stood. “We have a rogue. If-- If we don’t hurry, there’s a chance of time and space being torn to fucking shreds.”

 

There’s a moment of hesitation that keeps her from speaking further. A rogue-- this didn’t really classify as an emergency, but she was intrigued nonetheless. It was amusing to see what kinds of things that these dipshits considered an emergency. 

 

“It’s-- he’s YOURS.”

 

Her breath hitched in her throat. She still held the lipstick inches from her lips but couldn’t bring her hand to finish its application. Slowly, she closed her lips and popped the cap back onto her lipstick. In silence, she uncrossed her legs and moves to stand from the chair. The nightgown she’s wearing drapes down to her knees and swishes as she walk. All the heads of the Council turn towards her as she turns her back to them. 

 

She returns the lipstick to the makeup case on her bed and closes the lid, locking it and setting it on the floor. With a swift kick she pushes it under the bed. She runs her tongue along her lips, wetting them before smacking them. The sound echoes throughout the room, leaving all six council members frozen where they stand. Their eyes refuse to break from her. 

 

In an instant she’s turning towards them. Her blonde ponytail swishes behind her and her made up eyes narrow in on the Rick that had previously addressed her. Each step she takes towards him pierces the carpet with her heels, but she continues, unfazed by the tears her heels are making in the stitching. It isn’t until she’s directly in front of him that a hand traces his face, slowly making it’s way down his neck, chest, and continuing until her fingertips gently rest on the front of his pants. Her eyes are still locked on his, and she can tell how much effort is going into keeping himself calm. The sensation beneath her fingers tell a different story. A delicate smirk tugs at the corner of her painted lips. It’s clearly a mask to hide the screams that are emanating from her core. In the blink of an eye her manicured hands make a rough grab at him, holding him, squeezing him in her hand. The look of strength in the council member’s eyes immediately breaks. She had control, she always had control.  

 

“You say he’s mine? What kind of fucked up bullshit did he manage to get himself into this time, hmm?”

 

The council member stutters, trying his best to summarize the situation but it’s clearly not quick enough. Her grip tightens. 

 

“Make it quick before you bust a fucking nut. I don’t have all day.” 

 

A secondary voice cuts in. “He’s trying to--to travel through time. He’s killed a few of our spies and… and he’s kidnapped a guy named Stan Pines… we don’t know much else--  _ ma’am _ .” 

 

The blonde purses her lips, contemplating the newfound information and decides to release the Rick nearly on the verge of tears. He continues to save face as best as he can. “No need to hold it in. You can cry if you want to--” Again, he remains poised. “Tsk… shame.” Her beady eyes motion down the front of him. “You didn’t deserve them anyway.” 

 

Once again, she’s turning on her heels and making her way back to her chair. She plucks the bottle of red wine from the side table and tugs the cork with her teeth. Needless to say the entirety of the Council had hard-ons by then. A few long gulps would hold her over for now. 

“Look, all of you-- whether or not he’s from my dimension, I couldn’t give a fuck, but seeing as this is verging on ridiculous dangerous-- and not to mention incredibly stupid, I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Thank you-- thank you…” Another member of the Council managed to croak out a response. She was their last chance. In fact, she was there for that very reason. They knew he was going to crack one of these days. Rick of Dimension C-137 was a ticking time bomb, and he was about ready to blow. 

 

“So, you guys have a plan or are you just going to stand there and stare?” 

 

One of the Ricks standing towards the back of the gaggle stepped forward with the manila folder of papers from Rick C-102. He placed them as delicately as he could on her desk before stepping back with the others. “All you need to know is in there. We were--- kind of thinking you’d know the best way to-- to deal with him.” 

 

They weren’t wrong. She knew C-137 better than anyone. 

 

With a roll of her eyes, she got back up out of the chair and snatched the papers from the table. She barely even opened to the front page before tossing them onto her bed. She’d read them in a moment. “You really fucked up this time haven’t you, Rick.” Of course, she wasn’t addressing the Council no matter how much it applied to their actions as well. 

 

In the back corner of the carpet was a panel settled nicely against an armour. A few taps of her fingers opened the doors and presented her with a silver bodysuit, almost the same color scheme as the uniforms of the Council. A few more taps and a full arsenal spread out across the floor. Carefully, she assessed the array of weapons at her disposal before selecting what appeared to be an intergalactic shotgun and a utility belt. She’d fill that up when she figured out what she needed. 

 

The gun and belt were tossed on the bed next to the manila folder. They hadn’t even hit the bed yet and she was already hitching her thumbs beneath the straps of her nightgown. Both slipped over her shoulders and her entire outfit fell to the floor. 

 

No amount of training had prepared the Council for something like this. One by one they felt themselves fight their own instincts. In an attempt to keep themselves composed, all manners of diversion ultimately failed. It was nice to see them cut down to size for once. It would also be nice to see them attempt to make it back to their  _ thrones _ with their embarrassment displayed down the front of their pants. It made her chuckle. 

 

“What? You can come down here, disturb my peace and force me to go out and do your work for you yet you jizz yourself the moment the clothes come off? Who the fuck elected you guys?” Again, she laughed. The bodysuit on her bed soon clothed her. It wasn’t like that was any better. The material was skin-tight, accenting every curve of her figure. The tie holding her hair up was pulled free, leaving her golden hair to fall to her shoulders. She stuck the tie in her teeth and twisted her hair up atop her head. It would hold better in a bun than having it hang behind her head. Besides, C-137 always had a thing for the business casual look anyway. The last thing she needed was the set of reading glasses that sat on the bedside table. Business casual in a skin-tight bodysuit: classic.

 

“Give me some time to look through these papers and I’ll have something for you in a little while. I think I know where he’s going to go. Get me a portal gun and have the coordinates for Dimension B-137 Birdworld entered and ready. It’s the only place he _ can _ be right now.” She snapped the utility belt across her waist and reached for a secondary handgun. “And if he’s not there-- I’ve got a few shots with his name on them. I got dressed up for shit.” 

 

One of the Ricks stepped forward with his own portal gun in hand. The coordinates for the correct dimension were set and ready for her. One the nearest wall, he shot a decently sized portal and took a step back with the others to give her space. It wasn’t like it did much good. She walked past, snatching the gun from him and situated it on her belt. 

 

“Good luck --  _ Bonnie _ .” 

  
“Later fuckers.” With a wink and a kiss, she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bonnie is here! FINALLY! Well-- she's finally gotten a chance to do some things and I mean DO SOME THINGS. Bonnie is a fanmade character designed and basically invented by icecry on tumblr. She's their OC but she should really be canon. I love her a lot! 
> 
> A lot of this chapter was thought up by a good friend of mine so props to her and many thanks for the help!
> 
> I'm always looking for help and feedback from you guys so don't be strangers!


	9. Honey I'm Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is was again, his beating heart. He could feel each and every pulse shaking his body along with clouding his ears. The words he heard sounded an awful like-- no. There was absolutely no way. His heartbeats were paired with the sound of clinking heels against the wooden beams set atop the roots of the trees that curved down into the floor. He knew those heels far too well. He also knew the white jumpsuit fitted with belts, medals, and shoulder pads. Those shoulder pads looked horrible on everyone but her. In fact, everything looked good on her. That’s how he always remembered her: perfection.

“PINES!” There was a stained knapsack unfolded on the kitchen table and currently being stuffed with lord knows what. On top of that, Birdperson and Squanchy had taken it upon themselves to grab things from shelves, cabinets, and drawers before deciding which to keep in the house and which to give to Rick to take. 

 

After a few moments of silence, he attempted to scream through the house again. “STAN WE NEED TO GET GOING!” He could’ve sworn he had heard an ‘I’m coming’ or something along those lines so he kept packing. A pack of butcher’s knives were slipped next to a few weird looking bird-brand batteries and an extra gun of some sort. It wasn’t any larger than the knives so it fit perfectly among the rest. “If he’s gonna take this long then… then I might as well have left him behind in that club.” 

 

“You do not really mean that, do you?” Birdperson kept his attention fixed on a pair of  _ World’s Best Bird _ mugs rather than on the individual he was speaking to. 

 

“What?” His attention, unlike Birdperson’s, switched instantly to him. “I mean-- not really. I need a sidekick, a-- a lackey, someone to bring the muscle if I’ve only got one gun. He can take care of himself.” 

 

And just like that a loud thud echoed throughout the hall followed by a cacophony of smaller thuds that led up to the final BOOM that shook the house. All conversations ceased, leaving nothing but a few groans. 

 

“Pines?” 

 

Rick didn’t dare go off towards the stairs for fear of being found out. Had they found him already? Did they know he was going to be here? GOD he was so predictable! He should’ve just stayed with--- no. No, if he showed up there was a good chance that things wouldn't go smoothly. He was better off here anyway, even  _ with _ the chance of being flat out discovered. 

 

With a gentle nudge on the back of his leg, Squanchy inched him closer to the hallway. “Well don’t just squanch around-- go.” 

 

“Who me? What? Why?”

 

“Just go! Technically it’s your fault if anything happens in this house.” 

 

He did have a point. Every time Rick needed something or found himself in trouble, he’d go there and get them involved. Luckily, they still considered themselves his friends. 

 

“Fine! Fine… I’ll go.” With a swift kick back, he knocked Squanchy’s paw from his leg. He’d get an earful for disrespecting him later, but for now, he was in charge of putting together what the series of thuds was. 

 

The closest thing to him was a frying pan left out from breakfast. It wasn’t really anything intimidating, but it was something. As long as he had something to swing, that worked for him. 

 

With frying pan in hand, Rick turned the corner to get a look at the stairs. Well, Stan had come when called, that was important. The manner with which he had descended the stairs wasn’t ideal, but there he was, lying in a heap on the floor with a few things scattered about him. The only logical reaction to something like this would be a roll of the eyes and the lowering of the frying pan. 

 

“The  **fuck** are you doing on the floor?”

 

“Exactly what  _ YOU _ should be doing-- Rick --surrendering.” 

 

There is was again, his beating heart. He could feel each and every pulse shaking his body along with clouding his ears. The words he heard sounded an awful like-- no. There was absolutely no way. His heartbeats were paired with the sound of clinking heels against the wooden beams set atop the roots of the trees that curved down into the floor. He knew those heels far too well. He also knew the white jumpsuit fitted with belts, medals, and shoulder pads. Those shoulder pads looked horrible on everyone but her. In fact, everything looked good on her. That’s how he always remembered her: perfection. 

 

“So put down the damn frying pan and put your hands where I can see them.”

 

He can’t speak. 

 

There aren’t any words for him to say that either haven’t already been said or can’t seem to come together to form a sentence. He’s truly at a loss for words. He can’t even bring himself to drop the frying pan. 

 

“Rick… come on. Your buddy over here did as he was told, why can’t you?” Fingers danced along the utility belt around her waist before resting on the gun attached to her hip. “I don’t want to have to resort to taking the hard way out.” 

 

Honestly, neither did Rick. The hard way out with her always ended up with blood. It was just her way of dealing with things. That’s why he was so attracted to her. 

 

The frying pan finally slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor. 

 

“Much better. Now, I need you on your knees with your hands up. I’ll give the Council a call and they’ll be here to collect the two of you. Don’t worry, Birdperson and Squanchy are off the hook, for now. We’ll be back if we have reason to believe they were in on your little stunt.” 

 

Without saying much of anything, he stumbled his way up to Stan. The moaning had subsided, so Rick was pretty sure he was just lying there to avoid having to get up and face Bonnie. If he were in his shoes, he’d do the same. 

 

Soon he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, just a few below where she was standing. “Bonnie….” Just her name was enough. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

Silence. 

 

“I…. It’s been so long….” 

 

“Yeah, so what?” Her palm now rested on her gun. She could and would draw it no matter what, even if it was her Rick. 

 

Rick took another step, closing the distance between them, even if it was just by a bit. “Where… what… I-- I don’t know what to ask first. I just… you’re really…  _ here _ , right?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah I’m actually here you drunken bastard. You’d better get back before I blow your fucking brains out. I’m not afraid to do it, you know that.” 

 

“I know-- I know…” Another step brought him one below her, just enough to look her in the eyes. “But you won’t do it now, will you?”

 

The icy cold stare that she had fixed on him wasn’t breaking. His words meant nothing to her anymore. 

 

“Bonnie… please… what happened to you? O-One morning I’m waking up besides you and the next… Why? What happened between us?” Slowly, he brought a hand to take hers. “You do know how much it…. it hurt to know you were gone, right? I didn’t think you’d come back… I… I waited though. I kept all your things…” 

 

Another roll of the eyes met his words. “I don’t need any of that stuff.” 

 

“Then I’ll just… have to get rid of it.” 

 

“I don’t care Rick if that’s what you want to hear. I don’t care what you do, so long as it’s in a prison cell.” 

 

His other hand reached for her other hand, slipping it off the gun and pulling her down enough so he could lock onto her lips. In a swift motion, he tugged the gun from it’s holster and forced it into her stomach. “If I go, I’m goin’ out with a bang--  _ bitch _ .” 

 

It was enough to make her laugh. It wasn’t so loud that it was poking fun at his audacity, but enough to show amusement. “Same old Rick. See, this is why I agreed to come after your smarmy ass.” With another laugh, she slung her arms around his neck. “You always make things-- surprising.” 

 

The groaning suddenly started up again. Stan had come back around and brought himself onto his hands and knees. A thick string of blood poured from his bottom lip, pooling on the floor beneath him. That blonde-- that blonde-- she was responsible for this. She had silenced him with a knock across the face with that stupid gun of her and she pushed him down the stairs when he tried to call out for Rick and the others. For day three, he sure was dependent on Rick to fix things for him. 

 

Standing up was proving to be difficult seeing as his legs were killing him. One leg at a time seemed to do the trick. Slow and steady would get him up eventually. 

 

That’s when she noticed him. Out of the corner of her eye, Bonnie saw him struggling to stand. That was a problem. If he regained mobility, it was the two of them against her. With that being said, where were Squanchy and Birdperson? Were they too scared to show their faces? Did they know what getting between her and Rick would be like? It was probably best that they didn’t leave the kitchen. Things were about to get ugly. 

 

The moment Stan was getting his balance back, Bonnie made her move. One hand gripped onto Rick’s shoulder, the other spun him around, helping her to ultimately switch places with him on the stairs. Out of panic, Rick’s grasp on the gun tightened-- just as planned. Bonnie wrapped her arm around his neck, knocking the gun from her stomach and leaving a clean shot. Rick handled the rest, pulling the trigger subconsciously. The timing was on point, but the aim, ah-- it could’ve been better. The shot, something like a pulse of energy instead of a bullet, whizzed through the air before hitting it’s mark: Stan’s shoulder. 

 

A sudden sensation of burning-- boiling, shot through his shoulder, leaving him stumbling once again. Rick had been frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. He wracked his mind for ways to fix this. He couldn’t do much with Bonnie’s arm holding him in place. He didn’t even know why he had fired the gun. Why? What compelled him to do something like that? It was in that moment of paralysis that Bonnie took her gun back and released him. All he could do was fall back onto the stairs and continue to think over everything that was going on in order to solve all the problems that were stacking up before him. 

 

The clicking of Bonnie’s heels on the wooden floor echoed again throughout the foyer until she was beside Stan’s battered figure. “You know-- I came for the both of you. I could very well just hand you in and be done with it.” She could very well do that, but she was a player. She had the upper hand, and she wanted to keep it that way. “I’ll be back for you Rick. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?” 

 

On the other side of her utility belt was a second holster containing the stolen portal gun. A few quick coordinates were punched in and fired at a nearby wall. “You’re lucky it was just me. The Council’s going batshit crazy trying to figure out how to take you down.” Her free hand wrapped itself around Stan’s arm before tugging him towards the portal. “Consider that my warning. If you don’t turn yourself in, I’ll be back to make sure you do. Besides-- now I’ve got something you want... “ With a kiss in his direction and a seductive wink of her eye, she shoved Stan through the portal and disappeared behind him. 

  
In a flash, the hazy green of the portal disappeared, leaving an empty hall apart from Rick who remained sprawled on the stairs and a pool of blood on the floor. It was the only remaining evidence that Stan had ever been there, and he’d use it to get him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty so here we go on Chapter 9. I just now realized that I had planned up to here back when I wrote chapter 2. That was about a month and a half ago if you can believe it. My god the time has flown! I'm in the process of planning the next couple chapters and things feel like they're going to get interesting. There's going to be a squad, yes, the squad is going to get together and then crazy things ensue. The story will also be sliced in half to follow both Rick and Stan for a little while, so things might be a bit different. I don't know. Hopefully you like it! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave me a comment to let me know what I can do to make this better!


	10. This is Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing he reached for was his portal gun. It would only take a few adjustments and an alteration to the coordinates panel to actually get things going. “I’m… I’m also going to need a… a screwdriver and a *hic* napkin.”  
> Birdperson took off this time, opening drawers and opening cabinets in search of the items in question.  
> “And Squanchy-- go get me my flask.’

Knuckles lost their color the longer he sat there, fingers gripping ruthlessly to the railing up the stairs. Not only were his fingers desaturating, but so was his face. The color, although it was gone normally, seemed almost white now. She was gone, so why had she come after him? What reason did she have behind showing up like this? God no-- the  _ Council _ . A number of thoughts and strings of words ran around his thoughts, leaving the grip on the railing to only tighten in anger. First off, she had come back to haunt him then she had the audacity to take his only chance of being able to pull this off. Sure he was mostly the brawn to his brain, but that was enough to balance out their efforts. 

 

The echoing sound of the portal disappearing was the cue for Birdperson and Squanchy to finally turn the corner. 

 

“What happened Rick? Where is Stan?” Worry coated the words of Rick’s friend as he desperately looked around the room for their missing companion. “What is that? Rick, whose blood is this on the floor?” The tips of his fingers traced the puddle that had dripped from the tear on Stan’s lip. 

 

“Don’t touch it.” In an instant, Rick had crossed the room, swatting the other’s hand back. “I need this. Get me… something… I don’t know… a-anything!” If he could figure out a way to use his portal gun as a tracking device, yes it sounded ridiculous and far too difficult to pull off, maybe he could find Stan. If not his exactly location, maybe he could find which dimension he had been jumped to. 

 

Squanchy had run out of the room at the order and returned with Rick’s satchel. It was only partially filled, but there was enough in there for him to work with at the moment. Such a shame it would go to waste this early. 

 

The first thing he reached for was his portal gun. It would only take a few adjustments and an alteration to the coordinates panel to actually get things going. “I’m… I’m also going to need a… a screwdriver and a *hic* napkin.” 

 

Birdperson took off this time, opening drawers and opening cabinets in search of the items in question. 

 

“And Squanchy-- go get me my flask.’ 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He had torn off the console for coordination input. 

 

He had gone through an entire bottle of jack and was working through the remainder of the whiskey. 

 

His sight was beginning to fog, but that was the sacrifice he’d be willing to make for this damn thing to actually WORK. 

 

Once he had reconnected a few wires, reattached the touch screen, and heard the gun buzzing in his grasp, he knew it was worth a try. 

 

With a paper towel, he laid it across the puddle of blood, sopping up a small sample and brought it to the light. It seemed like it would be enough. 

 

He hoped it would work. 

 

He prayed that it would work… and he  _ never _ prayed. 

 

The old touchpad had been reformatted into a sort of scan which he pressed the blood sample into. A few sparks and a puff of smoke shot from the opening on the side of the barrel where he had dug out some loose wires in order to reconfigure them. It wasn’t anything to worry about-- yet. 

 

Again, the buzzing continued, heating the grip in his hand until finally, a cacophony of hums, cracks, and bleeps brought the gun vibrating against his palm. A few more sparks and suddenly it kicked into gear. After flipping around the scanner, the coordinates seemed to be switching between different dimensions and points in space. The genetic material seemed to be glitching through different dimensions and it was impossible to pin one down. The only option was to stop on one and hope he made the right choice. 

 

Hell, he didn’t even know if it would send him anywhere at all. He might’ve fucked up his portal gun altogether. 

 

“He was one guy, who knows how many other squanches are out there just like him.” Squanchy had taken up a place in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and shoulder pressed on the frame. “Just find another-- don’t put yourself through all this.” 

 

It was a tempting offer, but Stan already knew too much. He had promised to help despite not knowing a single thing about what he was doing. He hadn’t bailed on him yet, so there was always hope. There was hope that he would actually be beneficial. Besides, he was fun to have around once you got past the bickering and arguing that seemed to come naturally to him. 

 

“I can’t… I can’t do that. I got him into this mess and I’m go-- *buuuuurp* --ing to get him out.” 

 

Rick slammed a finger down on one of the buttons, securing a set of coordinates into his portal gun. That was where he was headed. It didn’t look like the Citadel, but he had high hopes that this was where he had to go. For all he knew, Bonnie might have made a detour.

 

“If anything happens to him Rick, that’s on you.” He had a point, but he wasn’t going to rub in in. This was Rick’s decision, and if he wanted to make matters worse, then who was he and Birdperson to stop him? 

 

Another green haze filled the room as a portal appeared along the nearby wall. 

 

“Leave the light on-- I’ll be back.” 

 

“We will hold you to that Rick. Good luck.” 

 

They were his friends after all. He could count on them for just about anything. Admitting that he cared was another thing altogether so in order to avoid sentiment, he stepped through the portal and disappeared. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Books. 

 

That’s the first thing he saw. 

 

God, what kind of hell did Bonnie force Stan into? 

 

The room wasn’t that large, no more than a bedroom, but it would’ve been much larger had there been less books stacked around the place. All that time working for the damn Citadel must’ve forced her to lock herself away. At least it wasn’t a prison cell. Rick hated cells as much as the next guy, so having this was less of a punishment than expected. What Stan would be doing here was beyond him. 

 

As silently as he could, Rick popped his head out from around a large stack of what appeared to be computing books and mathematics encyclopedias-- if those even  _ did _ exist. 

 

A few novels sat atop a table in the corner and a lonesome bed was pushed back against the furthest wall. It was fairly clear, which screamed ‘ _ prison orderliness _ ’. All he had to do was find the bastard in here and pluck him right out. It was a simple rescue mission. 

 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find himself face down on the ground and a large welt forming on the back of his head. 

 

He’d been hit with a large object, the origins of which he couldn’t make out from the impact. 

 

The second collision occurred when he tried to pull himself back to his feet. 

 

That’s when the lights went out. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When he opened his eyes at long last, he was confronted with his own gun, pointed in his direction. The face of the person holding it was blurred due to his glazing over every few seconds; concussion, he was sure of it. 

 

“Name.” 

 

“What? No-- give me my gun back.” Any and all attempts to move his arms were useless seeing as his wrists were tied to the bed posts with zip-ties. It wasn’t exactly high class, but it amused him. “Come on, I’m not joking. That’s dangerous.” 

 

“ _ Name _ .” Fingers tightened on the gun’s handle. 

 

“Rick Sanchez of Earth Dimension C-137… I’m hereby turning myself in… come on, let me go!” 

 

He could sense a moment of hesitation in the other’s grip. Something he said was either confusing or startling. Rick wasn’t in the mindset to figure it out. 

 

The gun was finally dropped to reveal it’s wielder. It was a fragile looking guy, no older than Rick. His hair was messy no matter how you looked at it, but kept enough to lead you to believe that he was someone to be respected. The cuffs of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows but were loose enough that had them threatening to fall back down to his wrists. His free hand shook when he moved to push up the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose, but returned to the gun instantly. 

 

“Your name?” 

 

His captor said nothing. The gun was doing most of the talking. 

 

“Guess not-- can you at least tell me if my *buuuurp* head is bleeding? If you’re the one who hit me… you did a hell of a number. Just nod or shake your head, I don’t give a fuck.” 

 

The gun remained pointed at him as he shifted to the side of the bed. All it took was a quick look and a shake of his head to pass along the message. At least it was something that wouldn’t have to heal. Of course, concussions would prove things to be very difficult to manage, especially in a place as difficult to navigate as the Citadel. 

 

“That’s a relief… what’d you use anyway? Couldn’t have been one of these books-- or… y’know…  _ two _ books. Can you point at what it was if you don’t want to *hic* talk that much?” 

 

His captor’s brows furrowed. Did he really want to share that information? It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, so he motioned with the gun to the opposite corner of the room. There sat a fairly worn down banjo. The edge had a small but visible dent from where it probably collided with his head. He would’ve asked, but he was still being held at gunpoint. 

 

“A banjo? You hit me with a fucking banjo?!” Now  _ this _ was embarrassing. It didn’t match up at all! The books, the banjo, the damn zip-ties, and this-- this guy. Who the hell was this guy? He wanted nothing to do with him yet he had hit him over the head with a banjo and was now holding him prisoner with no answers regarding why. 

 

“Look buddy, all you have to do is let me go and I’ll be out of your hair. I need to get out of here. Someone out there-- someone _ needs  _ me. Put down the  _ fucking gun _ and undo these ties. I can’t feel my hands!” 

 

He could hear the shifting of the gun in his captor’s hands again. He was about to shoot. Rick could feel it. 

 

That’s when the door clicked open. All attention in the room shifted towards the newcomer. 

 

The hair, the face, it was Stan! 

 

Thank god! 

 

“Oh god! Oh god you’re okay!” Rick tugged at his restraints, attempting to tear them from the bed posts. “Bonnie put you in here? With this guy? I mean sure, you’re safe for now but this guy--  _ fuck _ \-- being locked up is one punishment but having to listen to that damn banjo? Hasn’t even been a day yet and I’m already sorry for you. Come on-- let me out of here and I’ll get you back. We need to get a move on!” 

 

The entirety of his ramblings had been taken into account, of course they had, but none of it made any sense. The longer Rick spat nonsense, the more the expression on Stan’s face began to drop. 

 

“What-- what are you  _ talking _ about?”

 

“Did Bonnie fuck with your mind? We need to go! Get these ties off!” 

 

Eyes moved from him to the banjo wielding gunman. There was concern in his eyes, not the excitement and relief that Rick was expecting. “Keep him there. I’ll call for help.” 

 

“ _ No _ ! No need to do that! The hell is wrong with you!? Stan, I’m here to get you out! Bonnie doesn’t know I’m here. Let me out of these, tell your-- compadre here what went down and then let’s split!” 

 

“Stan?”

 

“That’s-- that’s your  _ name _ dipshit. There’s something wrong with you. You disappear for a few hours and now you’re acting like you-- you don’t even know your own name.” 

 

“That’s because that’s not my name.” 

 

Rick allowed his arms to drop within the zip-ties. Now that he mentioned it, there were things about him that were distinctively different from Stan. The way he held himself was with more confidence. His words were crisp when he spoke and he looked at you as if you were equals, not below him or above him. He had a pair of dark frames that sat high on his nose, almost like they were pressed up right next to his eyes. The kicker was the fact that there was an extra finger on both of his hands. How could he have missed that? 

 

This wasn’t Stan at all. 

 

“Then… then who the fuck  _ are _ you?”

  
“Stanley is my brother… my name is Stanford… Stanford Pines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late-- yet again. For some reasons, being able to settle down and write a chapter is proving to be hard, especially since I'm being scheduled for late shifts at work on the weekends. No matter, this is the start of the split storyline. For a little while, the chapters will bounce back and forth between Rick and Stan. This week was Rick so look forward to finding out what actually happened to Stan next chapter! 
> 
> For those just joining and those who have been long time readers, please feel free to leave comments with suggestions and words of constructive criticism. I'm always looking for inputs on how to make this series better! 
> 
> For those who have already sent kudos and comments, thank you so much! 
> 
> To all you viewers, thank you so much for sticking with me! Thank you for reading! Thank you for all that jazz!


	11. Ms. Bonnie Sinclair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The familiar sight of white heels passed his line of sight. Bonnie was still in here with him. She hadn’t bolted the moment they stepped through the portal. If he had the same urge to fight that he had atop the stairs then maybe he’d be up swinging by now.
> 
> “Don’t bother getting up. You’ll just end up hurting yourself.”
> 
> It was enough to get a rise out of him. Hands settled to either side of his head before pushing himself up onto his knees. She was just talk. That’s all he’s allow her to be to him: talk, words, voices in his head.
> 
> “Or you can ignore me… that’s cool too.”

In a flash of green and a sudden piercing headache, Stan found himself face down on something soft. Blood was still dripping from his lip and pooling once more in a mess of light brown tufts of the carpet beneath him. Why was he always on the floor? It would take another few minutes for him to gather the strength to get back up again, but he figured it was alright to lie there for a while longer. When he had pictured the hell he anticipated on showing up in, a carpet was not something he thought he’d see. 

 

The familiar sight of white heels passed his line of sight. Bonnie was still in here with him. She hadn’t bolted the moment they stepped through the portal. If he had the same urge to fight that he had atop the stairs then maybe he’d be up swinging by now. 

 

“Don’t bother getting up. You’ll just end up hurting yourself.” 

 

It was enough to get a rise out of him. Hands settled to either side of his head before pushing himself up onto his knees. She was just talk. That’s all he’s allow her to be to him: talk, words, voices in his head. 

 

“Or you can  _ ignore _ me… that’s cool too.” 

 

A shaky arm reached up to wipe the blood off of his lip, finally. A long line stretched from the inner curve of his elbow down to his wrist. “Where are we?” The sound of his own voice after all of the physical exertion surprised him. It rumbled through his chest as if he were growling at her. “You’re going to tell me…” 

 

“Oh yeah? Am I? And if I don’t, what are you going to do about it? You can barely stand, so what’s fighting me going to accomplish? _ Hmm _ ?” 

 

She had a point. He wasn’t himself at the moment and if he wanted to figure anything out, he’d have to at least get rid of this raging headache. The only way he’d be able to would be to ask her for help, but why would she even consider it? Things were spiraling out of control faster than he could comprehend them. It was enough to make him dizzy. 

 

“If you want to know--  _ Stanley Pines _ \--I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m going to help you but only if you give up your pride for more than five goddamn minutes. You and Rick both have that in common, so it’s no surprise that the two of you are skipping around causing everyone trouble.” Her heels stopped in front of a small black love seat before spinning around to face him. Bonnie took a seat and promptly crossed her legs together. “So… what’ll it be Pines? Are you going to kneel at my feet and try to keep your ego in tact or are you going to let me help you up and give you an ice pack for your lip?” 

 

A look of confusion crossed his features instantaneously. She was helping him? The entire time he had known her, he was positive she was out to make them suffer, at least, that was the vibe she was giving off anyway. 

 

Something about the whole ordeal seemed extremely fishy, but he extended his bloodied arm towards her with a slight bit of hesitation. The grin on her face was enough to have him feeling more suspicious than before, but she took his arm and helped him to his feet. Once he was finally standing, he realized just how petite she was in stature. The heels were the only things giving her enough height to look him in the eyes, even then she was still a good inch or two lower. 

 

“There we go. Have a seat somewhere, I’ll be back to explain. I promise.” 

 

The only seat that didn’t look remotely lived in was the corner of a white ottoman. The rest was covered in various articles of clothing and magazines. It wasn’t until he sat down that he finally realized how destroyed the room actually was. One of the walls had a few trails of scratchings; another was indented with a large spot of wall actually missing leaving nothing but the drywall. The chair that Bonnie had been sitting it was torn across the back and stuffing was sprayed around at its feet. The clothing around him appeared to be untouched, however, the sheer amount of it looked as if it hadn’t been moved since he had fallen. He could make out a few jackets, some sweaters, scarves, skirts, shoes, and various pieces of multicolored lingerie. Stan averted his eyes the moment Bonnie came back in with an ice pack in one hand and a glass filled to the top with an amber liquid and one large ice cube.  

 

She handed him the ice pack first before the glass. “Hold that on up to your lip. When it warms up, let me know and I’ll go get the other one.” The torn black love seat was pulled over besides the ottoman and she once again sat with her legs crossed. He hair wasn’t as prim as it was when he first saw her, but she still held herself as if he didn’t bother her. “I would be sorry about pushing you down those stairs, but I needed you beaten and bloody to make things convincing.” 

 

“Convincing?” There was that scratch to his voice again. 

 

“I haven’t seen Rick in years and, believe it or not, I missed the asshole. He’s the same old ambitious madman that he’s always been, so to hear he’s going around trying to  _ solve time _ was enough to get me on his case.” She stretched a hand out to move the ice pack back to his lip. He was spending too much time drinking than tending to his swollen mouth. “He didn’t happen to tell you about the Council did he?” 

 

Another moment of hesitation claimed him before he gave a definitive nod. 

 

“So you’re more involved than they first thought--  _ great _ . The Council’s out to make sure Rick…  _ my _ Rick, doesn’t do anything stupid and mess up time. Lord knows he’s done some stupid things, but time travel would take the cake. With the power to control time and space he could potentially break both of them and tear a hole in the fabric of reality. There’s no one, and I mean  _ NO ONE _ , that I know who would ever risk their being on something this dangerous.” 

 

Stan removed the ice pack, leaving a protruding bottom lip still caked in red and now starting to darken in color. “So you’re interfering? Doesn’t that mean you’re with them-- the Council?”

 

“Yes and no.” Again she moved the ice pack to his lip. “They have me on call. Seems like there’s only one Rick that everyone can point fingers at when something goes wrong and I’m the only that can get into his head. Go figure-- right?” Her free hand snatches the now empty glass of scotch out of his hand and disappears into the kitchen to refill it. When she returns, she has both his glass and one for herself as well. 

 

“Is that why you stick around then? You’re there to look after him?” 

 

With the cock her brows, she pressed her lips into a line and shrugged. “I guess you could say that. He’s still a fucking jerk through and through who absolutely infuriates me, but he still matters. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t get so angry about the mess he’s gotten himself in and want to go after him again. Thanks to the Council, they’ve given me a way to stay connected.” When she finally realized just how much she had been talking about him, she shook her head. The cup in her hand was downed without so much as a second thought. 

 

“I’m boring you, I can see it in your eyes. Why didn’t you fucking  _ say _ anything?” 

 

“Because you haven’t talked about this before, have you? He doesn’t know about this, does he?”

 

“How would he? He’s the only Rick that I know of that doesn’t want to stick around at the Citadel with everyone else. Rick wants to do what Rick wants when Rick wants to do it. It’s painfully obvious.” Fingers tap along the edges of her empty glass. The nerves are noticeable. 

 

“So when you showed up earlier--?” 

 

“I’m being paid to take the two of you directly to the Council of Ricks. To them, I’m nothing more than a hired mercenary in charge of keeping one of the biggest criminals of any and all dimensions in check. That’s why I showed up. If I couldn’t get the two of you, I was supposed to bring Rick and let you go to spare you from getting involved, but it’s too late.” 

 

“If you were supposed to go after him, then why am I here?” 

 

Bonnie suddenly goes silent. Her fingers draw imaginary circles on the edges of the glass until she can barely swallow. “I couldn’t do it.” She shakes her head. For a moment, her eyes drift shut. “He was right there… I had him, but I couldn’t do it. If I had shown even a moment of weakness, it could’ve compromised everything. I wouldn’t have been able to go back to the Council without admitting that I failed. I would’ve gotten soft-- hell I’m starting to feel it right now.” Her leg started to bounce anxiously. “I fucking hate him. I hate him so much you don’t even know. I hate him because… things are great for the first few hours and then he pulls shit like this and it’s all downhill until the moment we make up and the cycle begins again. If I could just cut him out it’d be so easy to move on, but he’s given me things and taken things from me and-- there’s no going back from something like that.” In an instant, she threw her glass across the room, smashing it on the opposite wall. “ _ GOD _ ! Why do I even bother with him anymore! These cycles aren’t worth it. They never were and they never will be… and now I need another drink.” 

 

She’s quiet for a second. Her eyes are fixed to the broken glass. For a moment, she debates whether following through and getting another drink, but a sudden hand on her arm keeps her from moving. She can feel the vicious words itching to break free and call him out for touching her, but he’s not laughing when she looks to him. He doesn’t look like he’s judging her. He looks like he understands. 

 

“1972…” Stan begins, and Bonnie is left sitting,  _ listening _ . She listens through the seemingly awkward recounting of separation and loss. She can’t help but chuckle at a few of the tangents leading to stories of people refusing to buy various products and a few run-ins with the authorities. Stan laughs as well because looking back, it’s not nearly as bad as things seem now. If he had known that one day he’d be apart from his brother, tied up in intergalactic crime with an alcoholic running from billions upon trillions of alternate versions of himself as well as his… visibly pleasing ex-girlfriend, he would’ve laughed in his own face and told himself to fuck off. The fact that he knew his brother was out there making a life for himself made him angry, of course it did, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to go back to the way things were. He wanted to be back on the shore, running around without a care in the world. He wanted to be arm in arm with his brother fighting imaginary villains and accomplish incredible feats. Now that he had an ice pack pressed to his face for what felt like an everyday occurrence, he was positive that seeing Ford again would only provoke his anger further. Chances were he was better now than he ever could be with his brother by his side. 

 

“You miss Rick, I get it. You’re mad at him, I get that too, but let’s take things as they come. What do you plan to do about getting me to the Council. After seeing the shit you pulled today, there’s no way I’m going back, right?” 

 

“Unless-- we find a way to get you back.” The streams of mascara down her cheeks didn’t do much to really her looking very intimidating, but to have a peek inside her mind was a relieving feeling. “The Council has access to every dimension and sub-dimension in existence. Who’s to say we can’t find your brother there? I have a good idea of the way the Citadel is laid out, and with my clearance, I can get around without any suspicion.” 

 

It was then that her plan was born. 

 

“Stan… I have an idea. How would you like to arrange a family reunion and get out of this mess?” 

  
“I’d say you’re out of your damn mind, but then again, everyone I’ve met in the last couple days has been a little off. How do you want to do this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! 
> 
> A chapter that's actually uploaded on a Monday! 
> 
> I apologize if this chapter seems a bit shorter than the others. We're prepping for something really big in a few chapters, so this is going to set up the future of this half of the story now that Rick and Stan are separated for a little bit. 
> 
> Last week's chapter was really well received and I'm so proud! It was one of my favorite chapters to write so far! More of the three of them next week! Look forward to that! 
> 
> For those of you continuing to stick with me, please don't be afraid to comment with criticisms to help the series grow! In fact, I encourage you guys to help me get better! 
> 
> Thanks so much!


	12. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you-- Poindexter--”  
> “Don’t call me Poindexter…”  
> “How about Sixer since you’ve got those two extra beauties.”  
> “No.”  
> “Is that a medical condition? Shouldn’t you have someone take a look at that?”  
> “No… please stop…”  
> “Fine… Ford.”  
> “What?”  
> “Get ready to have your fucking mind blown.”

“Well, first I want you to tell me how you got in here.”

 

“And why should I tell you?” Rick tugged on the zip ties around his wrists. They weren’t going to budge anytime soon, not unless the guy with the banjo was willing to cut him loose.  “That’s for me to know and you to never find out! It’s a-- a trade secret.” 

 

“Here--” Rick’s portal gun was passed from one man to the other. “--snatched this…. do-hickey off him. Can’t quite figure out how to work it though. From what I saw, it’s some science fiction-y type device. It’s how he got in here, I’m sure of it.”

 

Stanford looks over the gun, doing his best to figure it out from a simple once over. “That’s-- that’s impossible. Something like this shouldn’t  _ exist _ .” 

 

“Yet here it is… like some sort of transporter.” 

 

Rick tugged again on his restraints. “ _ Don’t touch that! _ ” 

 

The two ignored him. 

 

“Now that you mention it Fidds, it does have a panel here for coordinates. See, if you put in the date here, the year over here, and the time down here… wait… it looks like it’s been recently altered.” After closer inspection, Stanford turns his attention back to their hostage. “You did something to this didn’t you. Right here, you can’t manually input coordinates anymore can you? This looks like a scanner.” He sets the portal gun on the edge of the mattress. “That begs the question: what did you scan to get here?” 

 

Why should he answer? These two are keeping him held against his will and going through his belongings. What reason did they give for him to trust them with this information. 

 

“You can’t possibly scan anything here that’ll get you back to where you came from, so let’s make a deal. You tell me how and why you’re here and I’ll cut those ties off. Is that a fair deal?”

 

The room fell silent. It seemed like a fair trade seeing as he wouldn’t be able to portal himself somewhere else the moment he was released. No matter what he did, he was under their control, at least for right now. “How about you cut the ties  _ first _ and then we’ll talk?”

 

“That wasn’t the deal pal.” The second one chimed in. His name was Fidds if Rick had heard correctly. 

 

Rick bit his lip, holding back whatever swears came to his mind. If he was going to get out of this, he needed to be on good terms with them. “Which do you want first? How or why?” 

 

A smile tugged at the edges of Stanford’s mouth. He was getting what he wanted. “Let’s start with how.” 

 

“That scanner is set to input coordinates based on whatever genetic material is scanned. It was a fifty/fifty shot that I’d get the coordinates I wanted and I lost that coin toss. Make sense?” 

 

“Is that why you asked if I was my brother?” 

 

“Ding-ding!” 

 

“So you scanned a sample of my brother’s DNA? How did you--” 

 

“How did I what? Get something like that? I don’t want to alarm you Fordsy but your idiot of a brother is out there somewhere with my ex leaving a crumb-trail of blood behind him. I’m trying to get to him before something even worse happens and things go belly-up.” He motions towards the binds on his wrists. “Now fucking cut these already and I’ll tell you the rest if you’re really that interested.” 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So Stanley’s out there somewhere... “ 

 

“It was supposed to be me if it helps any.” 

 

“Which it doesn’t.” 

 

Rick once again had his portal gun in hand and was now resting comfortably against the headboard of one of the beds. Stanford was pacing back and forth about the hallway and Fidds was settled in one of the desk chairs, examining the dent in his banjo. 

 

“And he was tryin’ to help you  _ time travel _ ?” Fidds exchanges a confused glance with Stanford for a moment before turning back to Rick. “Don’t know if you know this, but that’s a load of hooie if you ask me. How would Stan help you?” 

 

That alone got a chuckle out of the twin. “Yeah, how would Stanley help you? My brother’s a hopeless case. Besides, the only language he speaks is ‘beaches, babes, and treasure’ let alone scientific formulas. You’re seeking help from a bonafide  _ pirate _ .” Again he laughs. “You’ve picked the wrong twin.” 

 

Their guest’s brow furrows. Clearly he was missing something. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?” 

 

“You couldn’t tell from the books and papers? Ford here is tryin’ to figure out the exact thing that makes that gun of yours work. He has been since the day he showed up here.” Fidds reaches over, grabbing a stack of stapled papers and tossed them over. The cover-page read “ _ Anomalies and Uncovering the Mysteries of our Modern Universe _ , An Essay by Stanford Pines”.

 

Page after page was filled with theories about the existence of alternate dimensions, advancements in technology left to be discovered somewhere, intelligent life-forms, and the equations to prove all of this. The more Rick read, the more he realized just how close he actually was to uncovering the very thing he was here to research. In fact, that breakthrough in his studies was sitting right in front of him. 

 

“All I’ve ever wanted to know was if these things actually existed.” He takes back the stack of papers and sets them atop of essays exactly like them albeit altered depending on the things he’s managed to uncover over the last few months. “And now you’re telling me my brother’s out there-- experiencing all the things I lie awake in bed at night wondering about. I would say it’s unfair, which it is, but I’m going to ask you and I want you to be completely honest with me: will you teach me what you’ve taught him? I don’t know what all the two of you have been running around doing together, but I want in. I want to understand that gun of yours and I want to understand what it is the two of you were getting at that landed him in this kind of trouble.” 

 

Unlike Stan, this twin held interest in the things Rick was trying to do. He wanted to understand and he wanted to learn. It was completely different from the response Stan gave him. It was almost like the exact opposite, and it amused him to no end. Laughing would’ve been horrible on his part, so he resorted to a toothy grin. 

 

“Are you asking for help or are you  _ offering _ help? Not only that… but are you bringing your sidekick with you?” He motions over to Fidds who visually looks offended by the notion of being a sidekick. 

 

“Pardon? I’ll have you know that I’m just as intelligent as he is. Sure, I might not come across as having a lot of books smarts, but I’m tactical as all hell and you’d best believe it!” His hands tightened around the neck of his banjo. “‘Sides, he’s a dear friend. Can’t have him wanderin’ off with some homemade sciencey type without proper supervision.” 

 

As much as Rick hated to admit it, he was at a standstill. He couldn't go anywhere now that he had broken his portal gun. Of course, he could always go for the DNA route again, but that would only lead him in circles until he could properly fix that scanner. These two seemed to be his only hope at resurrecting the manual input on his coordinates system. 

 

“Y’know what, if-- if the two of you want to get involved, then I’m going to need a few things.” Here he goes again. “If you both want to know how to build a portal gun… then you’d best start taking notes cause I’m not going to repeat myself.” 

 

All they had to do next was fix up the portal gun and get it ready to go. The only logical step after that was to go after Stan. Of all the places Rick could think to go, the Citadel made the most sense. It was a horrible idea to go in there unannounced seeing as he was a wanted man, but if he had Pinky and the Brain on his side, then maybe he might be able to actually do something according to plan. Bonnie and the Council wouldn’t know what hit them.  

 

“And you--  _ Poindexter _ \--” 

 

“Don’t call me Poindexter…” 

 

“How about  _ Sixer _ since you’ve got those two extra beauties.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Is that a medical condition? Shouldn’t you have someone take a look at that?” 

 

“No… please stop…” 

 

“Fine…  _ Ford _ .”

 

“What?” 

  
“Get ready to have your fucking mind blown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that things are a little late. There was a mixture of scheduling issues regarding getting together to write this chapter, me being tired because of work, and Independence Day. No matter, we managed to write this chapter and get it up! Sure it's a little late, but that's okay, right? 
> 
> The next chapter is going to get deeper in the whole coming together bit, so prepare for that. Guess that also means I have to start planning the next chunk of chapters. 
> 
> For those of you sticking through with this, thank you SO MUCH! It means a lot to see people interested in reading the new chapters! Again, be sure to leave constructive criticism to help me make this series the best it can be! I'm always open to suggestions as well!


	13. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third time’s the charm. Although this time, when he hits the ground, he gives a bit of a shudder, almost to the point where it’s over-exaggerated. Stan was never a tremendous actor when it came to pain. He could play his hand at confidence, but submission like this wasn’t his forte.

Third time’s the charm. 

 

Although this time, when he hits the ground, he gives a bit of a shudder, almost to the point where it’s over-exaggerated. Stan was never a tremendous actor when it came to pain. He could play his hand at confidence, but submission like this wasn’t his forte. 

 

“Does he look even-- even  _ remotely _ like Rick C-132?” One of the Council members on the furthest end spoke first. The look his eyes screamed at her, but his curiosity held those words back. “I strictly remember asking for Rick C-132.” 

 

Bonnie stood behind Stan, arms crossed, makeup redone, hair orderly, and a bit of blood left on her arm from where she grabbed Stan’s back at the safehouse. “Well I did try but like I said, Rick C-132 is unpredictable and acts without thinking. If you gave me more time, I’m sure I could beat his location out of this one. Seems like this guy knows a lot about what’s going on. He’s more involved than we first thought. I’ll have it out of him by tomorrow morning.” 

 

Each of the Council members looked to each other before agreeing to her proposal. “We-- We hate to give you more time on this project, but we are dealing with an intergalactic criminal here. Please realize that if you don’t have his whereabouts by tomorrow, then we have no use for you or his side-hoe.” He makes a motion towards the body on the floor. “Be back here with that information Bonnie.” 

 

“Don’t worry-- I’ll have something for you all tomorrow.” With a seemingly genuine smile, she moves to yank Stan up by the collar of his shirt. Once he’s up, they take their leave through the entrance of the council room and make their way off down the hall once more. 

 

Stan’s acting seems to continue down the various corridors and doors they pass through until they’re a safe enough distance away for him to break his facade. “I’m curious-- how much do you bench?” 

 

“Shut up… who knows who else is down here.” She pokes her head around a corner before dragging him the rest of the way towards his holding cell. “They don’t keep many prisoners down here so you won’t have any roomies to keep you company.” 

 

“Not a problem.” He wipes a bit of fake blood from the side of his face. The two of them had to improvise before showing up with nothing but a bruised lip. “I’ve been wanting a room to myself for a long time. This is a reward for all those years putting up with someone else.”

 

With a chuckle, Bonnie continued on down another hallway, this time letting up on her grip. “Shh-- you’re supposed to be suffering here. It won’t be convincing if you waltz in there like it’s home sweet home. Now, you remember the plan right? You stay the night and I’ll come get you first thing in the morning with the coordinates. You can manage the night no sweat, just don’t do anything to make you seem suspicious. Do that and we’ll get you out of here in no time.” 

 

It was a hard thing to really comprehend: going to see his brother. 

 

As much as he hated the idea of having actually look his brother in the eye and make up for all this lost time, it was better than having to go through the trouble of rebelling against an organization he knew nothing about. If it wasn’t for Rick, then he would’ve been sitting in that bar for the rest of the night, drinking away every single problem on his mind. Truth be told, he was actually going to miss the mess of activity. He was going to miss being yelled at, but in a good way. Even though he was sure to get an earful when he met up with his brother again, he knew it would never match the earfuls he had gotten from Rick that just wanted him to do this, do that, do something that would get them going on the next big rush of emotion and adrenaline. 

 

Nothing Ford could say to him would match that. 

 

Maybe… just maybe… he didn’t want to see Ford again. 

 

Maybe he wanted to break out and go right back to running alongside Rick. Sure, it sounded stupid the more he said it, but each time it sounded more and more genuine. 

 

For now, he would sit tight and do as he was told. It wasn’t something he was used to, but she knew this place far better than he did. This wasn’t a jail he could lift a key from and unlock all on his own. Having someone back him up would do wonders. The fact that there was a set plan in place also helped him keep to following someone else’s orders. 

 

“You really think is gonna work?”

 

“Hmm?” His question startled her. During the entire time they had walked through what was going to happen, they never once thought about the possibility of it failing. It was the only shred of doubt that he had voiced to her. Who knows how long he had been holding it in. “You do realize who it is you’re talking to, right? You’re going to get out of here, that’s a fact. What you do after that is completely up to you.” 

 

She was right. 

 

All he had to do was trust her and things would work out. Trust wasn’t something he threw around at whoever walked by, but this time he had justified reasons. She had kept him alive when she could have killed him. She listened to him when he spoke just as he had listened to her, and here she was, sticking her neck out for him. 

 

It went without saying that she did this without asking anything in return. 

 

The only thing he could think of regarding why was the fact that he had given Rick a reason to be excited and enthusiastic regarding something so reckless. He was actively doing something instead of sitting around in his underwear with a bottle in one hand and a flask in the other. She had seen the darkest sides of a man that had only shown his good sides to an average joe. It had been far too long since she had heard that kind of a tone in Rick’s voice. Because of Stan, she could hear it one last time. 

 

It was only a hunch, but he was sure of himself. 

 

Besides, she was doing him a huge favor of helping him find the courage to do something that had taken him years to realize. That was a favor that came along once in a blue moon. 

 

Despite walking for what felt like forever, he knew this was his only chance to really, truly, thank her. 

 

Stan instinctively reached over, delicately placing a kiss against her cheek. Again, this wasn’t something he would do often, but he’d been doing a lot of strange things these last couple of days. A kiss was just another one of those things. 

 

The look in her eyes as she turned back to him was nothing short of discomfort, but at the muffled ‘Thank you’ that followed, she eased, realizing that he wasn’t as egotistical as he had been before. 

 

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes albeit playfully. “You, Stanley Pines, are something else entirely, you know that?” 

 

They arrived at the cell soon after. His thanks remained at the forefront of her thoughts as she shoved him in through the gate and slammed it shut afterwards. It hurt to leave him there now that she thought about it, but he was a strong guy. He’d be able to last through the night, at least, she hoped so. 

 

“Until tomorrow then. Be ready.” 

 

Despite the room being under surveillance, she found herself throwing a wink in his direction as she turned to leave the way she came. It would be a long night and she wanted to leave him with a solemn promise. Things would be better in the morning. 

  
At least, that’s what they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so yes, this was a shorter chapter than normal. 
> 
> That's mainly because we're planning something big for next week and we also did a bit of planning for the next seven chapters. Yes my friends, SEVEN chapters. We now have a definite ending to this series and all we have to do is work our way there through a few different arcs we have going on. 
> 
> And trust me, there are some really interesting things in store regarding a few new characters, some interesting character development, and some really exciting action that we're looking forward to writing. 
> 
> From Jason and Olivia   
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and those to come! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment if you have any ideas or want to let us know  
> how we're doing! We're always down for hearing from your guys!


	14. Storming the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let out another horribly verbal sigh that ultimately caught in his throat.
> 
> A flash of green lit up the wall across from him on the other side of the bars. It was such a familiar sight that he nearly jumped to his feet.
> 
> Rick was coming to get him.

“Why again did you think it was a good idea to completely destroy the main control panel?” 

 

“How else was-- was I supposed to input a DNA scanner? You think I could just attach it to the side? Want me to just slap it on with super glue?” 

 

“Look, I don’t know how to work that thing normally--” 

 

“Exactly-- you don’t know how to work it, so you don’t know how to fix it.” 

 

The disassembled portal gun in Rick’s hands looked even worse than before. A few pieces were splayed out across textbooks on scientific theories and folders of what looked like outlines for a thesis paper. He couldn’t be bothered to really try and preserve them seeing as splotches of green substances were now spilling out one of the pieces in his hands and dripping onto the table. 

 

“Rick… couldn’t you just… use the DNA scanner again? You used it to get here, right? That means there’s only one other location Stan could be.” 

 

Eureka. 

 

“Y’know what my six-fingered friend, you’re a genius.” Piece by piece the portal gun comes back together and looks-- exactly the same as it did about twenty minutes ago. The light atop flicked back on and the scanner kicked into gear. 

 

From the other side of the room, Fiddleford poked his head out from behind a stack of books, growing interested at the sudden progression. “You two figure it out?” 

 

“Yeah yeah, give me a sec Cotton-Eyed Joe. I need to get things perfectly calibrated and then we can head out. All I need now is a little ‘ _ miracle juice _ ’ from Fordsy here.” 

 

The look on Ford’s face was nothing short of sudden confusion. It took him a moment to wrap his head around the possible things Rick could be alluding to, all the while feeling the color drain from his cheeks. The look in his companion’s face was equally as horrified. It wasn’t until Rick burst out laughing that things seemed to lighten up. 

 

“Kidding-- only kidding, unless you’re down.” A cock of his brow is followed a playful grin. He didn’t really mean it, but watching the brilliance of the two beside him sink into sudden social stupidity was too much to pass up on. “I just need a blood sample, nothing to freeze up over. Your brother was so much more generous seeing as it was all over the floor by the time he left.” 

 

Again, the room seemed to die a bit. 

 

“Oh come on-- the more we-- y’know --sit here staring into the void the longer Stan sits somewhere rotting away. You want to get him out, you’ll prick your goddamn finger. You’ll prick your goddamn finger right now and work with me.” Arguing with him would be useless. If he wanted that blood sample, he’d do whatever it took to get it. The look in his eyes was a testament to that. “Now, are we gonna do this or what?”

 

The only sharp edge they could find was the pocket knife that Fiddleford had stuffed into his back pocket. A simple slice with it was enough to cover the DNA scanner and get things in motion. 

 

Rick got things ready to go with the portal gun, Fidds ran off to grab a bandaid, and Ford sat back, watching, waiting-- mentally preparing himself for the events that were about the transpire. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_ Back and forth.  _

 

_ Back and forth.  _

 

_ Back and forth again. _

 

It was impossible to get any sleep like this what with that conversation with Bonnie running loops in his head. Over and over again he would hear her words. By the end of the day, he’d be with his brother again. She was working on making that happen. The worst case scenario, he’d turn him away and he’d end up back on the road again, travelling to god knows where. 

 

With an incredibly verbal sigh, he settled himself down against the back wall of his cell. 

 

There was enough time in the world to prepare him for what he wanted to say to his brother. Tens of thousands of scenarios could play out in his head but none of them seemed to be a possibility. The worst ones seemed more likely than the ones that ended in heartfelt embrace and, honestly, made Stan gag a bit just thinking about. 

 

He let out another horribly verbal sigh that ultimately caught in his throat. 

 

A flash of green lit up the wall across from him on the other side of the bars. It was such a familiar sight that he nearly jumped to his feet. 

 

Rick was coming to get him. 

 

And here he thought that he meant absolutely nothing. Here he thought he was nothing more than a replaceable sidekick, at least, that’s what Bonnie had convinced him. 

 

From the green haze, he could vaguely make out the outline of his most recent companion. He had completely forgotten about the fact that this hallway was monitored by cameras and was more focussed on the fact that he was being saved. This wasn’t exactly according to the plan he and Bonnie had come up with, but it definitely invoked a feeling of hope in his chest. 

 

Following Rick was a second figure. It didn’t exactly belong to Squanchy or Birdperson which begged the question: had he already picked up another right hand man? It wasn’t until the third figure that he felt his heart stop. 

 

“Dammit Pines!” There was that familiar voice again. “I leave you alone for ten minutes-- ten fucking minutes and you manage to-- to get your ass locked up in the one place in the  _ entirety of space _ that I can’t stand. Y’know how pissed I am right now? Hmm? Y-You know how pissed I am? God I can’t keep coming to you aid like a-- a fucking knight in shining armor every damn time you get yourself in trouble.” 

 

The words seem to fly right over his head. 

 

All he can really focus on is that third figure: the spitting image of his brother. He had the same glasses, the same style shirt he always prefered, a seemingly clean and proper poise, everything just screamed ‘Ford’. What was worse was the fact that he was staring back, more than likely thinking the exact same thing. In fact, this wasn’t the first time the two of them were in a position like this: standing on opposite sides of something. 

 

“Are you even listening to me? Hey--  _ Stan _ ? Hello? Hello!?! Fine-- don’t listen to me.” From another pocket, he reaches for the same little white gun he had before. He fires a few shots at the handle of the gate locking Stan in. A pretty decent amount of sparks fire off from it, but apart from that, the gate doesn’t budge. 

 

A few more muttered profanities slip through Rick’s lips before he turns to his two new companions. “You two-- stay here. I’m gonna get this…  _ fucking piece of shit _ open. Hold tight and just yell or something if anything happens.” 

 

Fiddleford gives him a nod and solid ‘understood’ while Ford stands still, eyes locked on his brother. The two hadn’t stopped watching each other in disbelief. It would probably take a while to really come to terms with the sudden event that had presented itself. 

 

At this point, Rick could care less. The goal now was to find a way to open that gate. Without it open, their whole plan was useless. With that, he took off down the hall and around the nearest corner. He knew this place pretty well, not as well as the resident Ricks, but enough to navigate. This was the one part of the Citadel he never wished to visit simply because if he did, it was probably because he was being locked away. Not once did he ever actively act to give to Council that kind of a satisfaction. Right now, he was more concerned with helping Stan than actually worrying about his own safety. He was sure if the Council hadn’t been told he was there, then someone would eventually. Who knows, with what all had happened, he was sure Bonnie was on her way to apprehend him right now. 

 

By the time he finally managed to find something important looking, he wasn’t thinking of anything other than escape. The door screamed ‘important’, especially since there was a keypad hooked up to the side wall. As he approached, he seemed to unfold from its place, presenting him with a collection of strange looking symbols and sigils. Of the two-hundred or so variations of words and codes he could try, he picked the first on his mind. It was a shot in the dark and, with a sudden shot of whatever was left in his flask, would probably get him nowhere. 

 

However, with a click and a beep, the door unlocked itself. A dumbfounded moment left him standing staring in disbelief at the cracked door. All he could really do was cheer, throwing up his middle fingers into the air with a ‘Fuck Yeah!’ and kicking the door the rest of the way open. To the center of the room sat a large column. Every now and again it would blink and light up the various small lights that lined the sides. A console sat before it, but Rick couldn’t really be bothered. The adrenaline and shot of whatever was in his flask fueled him to draw his gun and jam it into the second mess of keys. A boom, a flash, and a spark later had him realizing the true mistake of his acts of instinct. An exceedingly loud alarm nearly deafened him, waking up his common sense and sending him into a panic. 

 

“Oh…. Fuck.” 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In the meantime, the two brothers remained locked in battle. Their gazes refused to shift, leaving Fiddleford to stand between them, nervously trying to get their attention. 

 

Without Rick to facilitate things, Fidds was the only one there to really keep things in check. 

 

His attempts proved futile until Stan finally decided to break the silence. “S… Something tells me you guys didn’t meet up in a… a  _ strip club _ .” 

 

Ford’s brows furrowed almost instantly. 

 

“Pardon?” 

 

“A strip club… Like a…  _ strip club _ ?”

 

“No I heard you the first time. I just don’t see what you’re getting at.” 

 

“I… Honestly I don’t know what I’m getting at either.” 

 

For the first time since Ford walked through the portal, Stan broke eye contact. The only thing he could really do to keep from yelling was to look away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. God-- who knows what Rick had told his brother already. Then again, how did Rick happen to stumble on his twin? There were enough questions to keep him awake for days let alone one night. 

 

Their conversation is cut short by the blaring and ear-splitting alarm that has all three covering their ears. The cell gate clicks open and the lights in the hallway flash a sickly red. Rick’s idea of opening the door probably didn’t take into account an alarm system. How wonderful. 

 

The moment Stan steps out through the gate, he now has to face his brother, in the flesh. He can barely open his mouth before he feels a sharp pain traveling down the side of his face into his neck and down his shoulder. Fiddleford moves instantly to separate the two brothers, but it’s too late. Ford’s already thrown the first punch. He’d throw a second one if he didn’t hear the sudden screams travelling towards them. 

 

Rick finally rounds the corner, breaking into a run. “I FUCKED UP! I FUCKED UP!!!” 

 

“You what?” Fidds, now entangled between the two brothers, cranes his neck to look towards their panicked guide. “ _ What did you do _ !?” 

 

“No time to explain, we just-- we have to get out of here! They’re-- they’re probably sending guards right now.” With gun in hand, he turns back around and starts taking off down the hallway. The other three don’t think, they just follow along after him. With the alarm, the lights, and Rick shouting incoherent orders at them, a sense of panic crashes over them. 

 

Stan recognizes the corridors they pass through, clearly remembering them from hours earlier, at least, he thinks it was a few hours ago. Who knows how long he’d been awake. 

 

With all this fear of running into guards, they weren’t prepared to run into someone completely different. The second Rick takes off down a second corridor, he’s thrown to the ground left struggling to get back to his feet. Across from him, also on the floor, is Bonnie. She’s no longer wearing her stark white bodysuit but instead dons a leather jacket, tight black pants, and heels that almost mimic the ones she had on the day before. She takes a second to take in the sight of not one misfit, but four. Her eyes ultimately land on Rick. Brows furrow, lips purse, and she brings herself to her feet. She grabs Rick’s collar and yanks him back up. 

 

“The fuck are you doing here?! Hmm!? You dumbass!” She whips her hand across his face. “I had everything covered you reckless sack of shit! If you had settled down for one moment, maybe I would’ve considered letting you know that he was okay, but if you thought I’d send him back to you and get him involved in your-- whatever the hell it is you’re planning then--”    
  


A few brightly colored lasers fired off down the hall, bursting into one of the panels along the wall. Similar shouts echoed as well, all directed towards the five of them. 

 

“ _ This way _ !”

“ _ Someone go get backup _ !”

“ _ Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill _ !” 

 

“Later babe!” They can barely breathe before they’re off again, down another hallway. Shots fired from behind them, nearly nipping at the back of Fiddleford’s heels. Hands yank him forward and they pick up the pace. No one really questions the fact that Bonnie’s now running alongisde them, Rick included. They’re worrying more about outrunning the guards on their trail. 

 

Bonnie soon tugs Rick through one of the nearby doors and the rest follow. “Get your portal gun ready Rick! That’s the only way out of here. I don’t care where it is you take us but we can’t be followed! No Birdperson! No Squanchy! Not even my place! Just put something in dammit!!” 

 

Hands fidget with his portal gun. The scanner isn’t doing much but glitching out of control. It sparks and immediately bursts into a cloud of smoke. The three trailing behind him break into a fit of coughs and a few lasers from the guards further down the hall shoot through, slamming into the doorframe as they slip through. It clearly wouldn’t be any help right now. However, he does notice the sleek and shiny portal gun sitting comfortably in the holster on Bonnie’s hip. It would more than likely work five to ten times better than the piece of garbage he’d broken. 

 

Instead of using his own, he tosses it to the side and slips hers off of her hip. It works like a charm. One by one he fires portal after portal along the walls to their sides, hoping to find one that could work to their advantage. 

 

One of the portals explodes with tentacles grabbing at the guards. A large set of teeth shoot from another, clasping onto the leg of another. The guards are taken out, almost one with every portal. Rick lets out another cheer and raises his arms, flipping them off once more. What he’s unaware of is the laser that breaks through from up ahead and knocks the gun out of his hand. 

 

He shouts, trying desperately to grab it but it lands comfortably in Fiddlefords grasp. 

 

“ **_SHOOT DAMMIT! SHOOT!_ ** ” 

 

Portals immediately pop up left and right, on the ceiling and on the floor behind them. The destinations change with every shot leaving monster and creature and strange clouds of mist and fog to climb through certain portals and waft through others. At this point, he’s not even thinking of where to shoot. He doesn’t even register that he shoots a portal up ahead of them before it’s too late. 

 

The floor beneath them seems to disappear and they drop, all five of them, through the portal. 

 

_ Falling… falling… falling… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, a few things: 
> 
> I apologize for taking so long with this chapter. It took a lot of planning and prep because I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. I also had to schedule a time to right this because my friend and I couldn't find a time to write together. 
> 
> A second thing, I'm going on vacation this coming Saturday and I'll be gone for five days. If I have the chance, I'll be writing some chapters in advanced to get up when I get back. In the meantime, feel free to let me know how I'm doing so far! I'm really having a blast with how things are going. I'm in love with the ideas that the two of us have for upcoming chapters and I'm really excited to get these out to you guys! 
> 
> There are some great things in the works! Can't wait to share them! 
> 
> Feel free to let us know how we're doing.   
> Feel free to share with your friends, families, dogs, cats, entities, etc.


	15. Over the River and Through the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does anyone know where we are right now?” A sickly cool breeze seemed to whip past them every now and again, bringing along with it the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of trees rustling in the late evening. It was obvious: they were in a forest. Where that forest was was still a mystery to them. “Standin’ ‘round like this an’ arguin’ won’t give us a place to lie low. It’ll just attract attention. If you all want to know my honest opinion, I think we should move towards town… wherever that might be… so please, I know you’ve all got somethin’ to yell at someone else for, but pocket it long enough until we know we’re safe-- okay?”
> 
> He had made his point.

One by one everyone slams to the ground, at least, that’s what they come to realize once they’re able to actively lift themselves up. The landing wasn’t exactly comforting. The last to fall is Fiddleford who knocks into Rick and forces him back onto his stomach. 

 

With a gruff tone, he snatches the portal gun out of Fiddleford’s hands. “I’ll be taking that.” 

 

“What? I  _ helped _ \--” 

 

“Sure… sure you did…” 

 

The first to actively pull themselves to their feet is Ford. Six-fingered hands move to dust the dirt off of his clothes, almost absent-mindedly. “You’ve gotten us out of deep trouble. If anything, we should be  _ grateful _ .” Eyes narrow in on their supposed guide. “You’ve saved our lives. Thank you.” 

 

Stan brought himself to his feet before extending a hand to Bonnie. With a grin, hands come together. She stands back up, brushing dust and dirt from her jacket and composing herself once again. From then going forward, there was absolutely nothing keeping her from losing her cool. She wasn’t being tracked, there weren’t eyes on his mission-- hell, she didn’t have a mission anymore. She was a part of the problem. 

 

Heeled boots trudge across the ground between her and Rick. Hands outstretch, knocking Fiddleford off and pulling Rick to his feet. Her fists now wrapped themselves in the fabric of his shirt, keeping him in her grasp. “You’re an  _ asshole _ and an  _ idiot _ \-- did you know that? Hmm? I swear to god Rick if it’s not one thing it’s another and  _ now _ … what were you thinking?!”

 

Rick seemed unphased by the yelling. 

 

“He’s--  _ Stan’s _ my problem. I got him into this mess and I  _ was _ going to get him out--” 

 

“So you high-tailed it over to his brother and got him involved? How exactly does that make sense?”

 

Rick rolled his eyes, pulling back. She clearly didn’t realize just how confusing her place in all this was. 

 

“And how exactly do-- do you go from wanting us to rot in prison to wanting to break us out? How exactly does _ that _ make sense?” He had a point. One moment she was threatening them both and the next she was helping them escape. Something wasn’t right with that. A double agent couldn’t be a double agent without a motive for the swap. 

 

Bonnie would never explain. She  **couldn’t** . Even Stan could see that the question of her loyalty hit a bit too hard. After her explanation back there-- about how she still cared, about how she was angry because she didn’t want to care. Is that why Ford was so angry? Did he care? God it was stupid thinking on it, but it made him curious. 

 

The whole point of his plan with Bonnie was to end up with his brother again. Circumstantially, it wasn’t the best time to really be trying to make things better, but there wouldn’t be another time to try. 

 

God this was hard to do. 

 

“Um…  _ excuse me _ .” Stan had  _ almost  _ brought himself to say something to his brother when he heard the nervous voice of his brother’s companion. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard him speak in a while. 

 

“ _ Excuse me _ !” 

 

His voice grew louder, trying to get everyone’s attention, however, the arguing between Rick and Bonnie continued to escalate. 

 

“You won’t tell me why you double-crossed me!?” 

 

“I didn’t think it was necessary!” 

 

“You didn’t think  _ that _ was necessary!?”

 

“At the  _ time  _ I thought it wasn’t important!” 

 

“Well it sure is  _ fucking important now _ isn’t it?!” 

 

With a cough to clear his throat, and a deep breath, Fiddleford managed to scream over them both, scaring the lives out of everyone present. 

 

“ **_SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ ** ” 

 

Everyone goes silent. This was the first time he had taken initiative like this.

 

“Does _ anyone  _ know where we are right now?” 

 

A sickly cool breeze seemed to whip past them every now and again, bringing along with it the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of trees rustling in the late evening. It was obvious: they were in a forest. Where that forest was was still a mystery to them. 

 

“Standin’ ‘round like this an’ arguin’ won’t give us a place to lie low. It’ll just attract attention. If you all want to know my honest opinion, I think we should move towards town… wherever that might be… so please, I know you’ve all got somethin’ to yell at someone else for, but pocket it long enough until we know we’re safe--  _ okay _ ?” 

 

He had made his point. 

 

Once again, the rest of the party found themselves following along. Their conversations silenced, leaving nothing but an air of discomfort between them all. There would be time for that later. Without the fear of the guards on their tail, they had all the time in the world, or at least, it seemed that way. 

 

“Now, if you all are ready--” 

 

Fiddleford is the one to take the lead, taking not even a step before the distant sound of a falling tree broke the silence ahead of them. It’s a clear indication of life, hopefully. If there’s a town around here, then it’s bound to see wood of some kind. 

 

“That way I s’pose.” 

 

On and on they go. The sun is quickly replaced with the luminescent glow of the moon, casting a haze before them. It’s only then that they hear the second tree. However, this one is somewhat closer. 

 

“I-- I think we’re almost there!” With a newfound pep in his step, Fiddleford takes off. His pace quickens and the others hurry to follow along. 

 

He barely moves a yard before a flash of lights nearly blind the party. A set of high beams from a Ford pickup shoot past a crop of trees as the car nearly runs the group over. A cloud of dust and dirt kick up into the air, leaving everyone, Fiddleford most of all, in shock at the sudden scare. 

 

The driver’s side window rolls down manually, revealing a burly red-headed teenager. His face is covered in patches of ginger stubble and the mess of hair atop his head is hidden underneath a droopy green beanie. A plaid sleeved arm hangs from the window, motioning towards the stragglers. “Hey, what’re you all doin’ out here at this time a’ night?” 

 

Before anyone else can get a word in edgewise, Fiddleford steps forward, voice still shaking from the shock of nearly being run over. “We’re lookin’ for town. You wouldn’t mind pointin’ us in the right direction.” 

 

“Better yet, how about I give ya a lift into to see Susie. She’ll set you all up with somethin’ to eat and if you ask nicely, she’ll help ya find somewhere to stay the night, that is, if you’re plannin’ on stickin’ around for the night.” 

 

“Well…” Eyes glance back at the others. 

 

“Hell no!” Rick butts in, stepping up to speak his mind. Within a second of doing so, Fidds slaps a hand over his mouth to stop him from speaking any further. 

 

“Actually, we’ve had a pretty long day. A hot meal and a warm bed are just what we’re lookin’ for. If you don’t mind givin’ us a ride, that would be dandy.” A cheesy and rather nervous smile stretches across his face. 

 

By the look of the gang in their entirety, they look nothing more than a gaggle of misfits. Two are identical, one looks sloshed, the woman looks extremely pissed off, and the one in front is sporting that nervous smile, attempting to conduct the situation as best as he can. It gets them a chuckle from the teenager. 

 

“You guys are weird-- you know that?”

 

The boy hops from the driver’s seat and heads around the back, pulling down the door of the trunk. With a firm pat, he motions towards the bed of the pickup. “I’ve got just enough room up front for two not including myself. I’m guessin’ you’re gonna be up there with me--” He points to Fiddleford, “--and whoever else wants that free seat.” His eyes land on Bonnie. “Why not give the lady here a seat. Rest of you guys can have a seat back here.” 

 

It takes no time at all for everyone to get situated albeit uncomfortably. 

 

Bonnie is smushed in the front between Fiddleford’s bouncing leg and the red-headed boy while everyone else is left to bump around in the back seat after every root, rock, and hill they barrel over. Luckily for the occupants up front, they can barely hear the muffled shouts of ‘Ow my ass!’ and a few other exclamations about how screaming about one’s ass in the middle of the night might disrupt whoever might be around. Which then, brought about a counter argument about whether or not there actually were any people in the middle of this godforsaken forest. 

 

“So, you guys been wanderin’ around long?” The teenager rests an elbow on the windowsill while his other steers the truck. 

 

“Honestly, we just got here.” Bonnie does her best to crack a smile. Her eyes are still glued to what little can be seen through the truck’s headlights. From what she and Fiddleford can both tell, there’s nothing but trees for miles around. Hopefully this kid knew where he was going. “Kind of-- stumbled upon the place. It has a name, right?” 

 

The boy chuckles. “In just a second, you’ll have the honor of figurin’ that out for yourself.” 

 

Once they bound over another hill, the high beams light up what looks like a road sign. It’s a tattered sign that looks like it hadn’t been updated in years. It’s difficult to really make out what it says since the overhead lights blink on and off every few seconds. The sign welcomes them with faded letters and chipped paint. They draw closer until they can at last read the sign in its entirety. 

 

‘Welcome to Gravity Falls. 

 

….nothing to see here folks.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that the chapters are getting longer and I'm LOVING IT! 
> 
> Only a few more weeks until I go back to NYC and I'm super excited. I miss  
> NYC so much. It's like my home away from home and besides, this fic actually  
> started up in the city in a bottom bunk on a 'dare' of sorts. 
> 
> Now look at where we are... Chapter 15! 
> 
> Quick reminder, if you want to leave a comment to tell me how we're doing so far  
> please go for it! My friend and I love hearing back from you guys! It's hard to forget  
> that we're not just writing this for ourselves. As much as we enjoy where this is going,   
> we want to know what you guys think of it! 
> 
> Thank you muchly!!!


	16. Table for Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The place was practically empty apart from one or two people seated to the back of the establishment. Most of the tables were bussed. A few still had plates, but they looked as if they’d been practically licked clean. An energetic brunette was hurrying back and forth between the dirty tables, the remaining customers, and the kitchen to grab things every now and again when the few in the back asked her for things like an extra creamer for their coffee or more french fries.

After what felt like miles upon miles of trees, the headlights of the truck finally aid in illuminating the little diner off down the path. There wasn’t much out front apart from a few other rusty cars similar in style to the truck everyone was crammed into. 

 

At long last, they pulled to a stop. 

 

“Susie’ll set you guys up with something to eat and if you’re lucky-- a place to stay. Everyone says she’s got a heart of gold.” The kid rested an arm against the lip of the truck window. “So, this is where I leave you.” 

 

The passengers sitting in the bed had already hopped out, waiting for the rest of their band of misfits from the steps up to the front door. 

 

Once out of the car, Fiddleford scuffled his way back over to the window. With a knock, it was lowered for him. “Pardon me but I never caught your name. Can’t thank you properly if I can’t put a name to a face.” 

 

The boy replied with a grin and a chuckle. He was a funny one, this man. “Dan-- but the guys call me Danny.” 

 

“Well Danny, we all owe you our thanks for settin’ us up with a ride. Hope to run into you again sometime to pay you back for the help.” 

 

“Nah… it’s cool. Ma always said ‘ _ Boys sit back and wait for someone to step forward. Men take the step _ .’ Enjoyin’ your stay in Gravity Falls is payment enough. Hope you all get where you’re goin’." With a salute to the rest of the party, he shifted into reverse and drove back down the path they had come from. 

 

He was a good kid. Fiddleford could see that. He’d make a great man someday. 

 

By the time Fidds turned back around, everyone had gone inside. 

 

The place was practically empty apart from one or two people seated to the back of the establishment. Most of the tables were bussed. A few still had plates, but they looked as if they’d been practically licked clean. An energetic brunette was hurrying back and forth between the dirty tables, the remaining customers, and the kitchen to grab things every now and again when the few in the back asked her for things like an extra creamer for their coffee or more french fries. 

 

Her attention remained fixed on her work until she heard the jingling of the bell that hung above the door. 

 

“One sec folks! Let me just clear a space off for you guys and I’ll be right there to take care of your order.” She turns back to flash the gang an almost award winning smile. Her lips are painted over with a perfectly matte coat of pink lipstick, her eye makeup, albeit fading a bit after being worn all day long, was simple yet matched the colors of her apron. Overall, her bubbly personality was nothing short of inviting. Dan had clearly taken them to see the most eccentric individual in town, that much was clear.

 

In no time at all, she was carrying away armloads of plates and motioning with a foot towards an empty booth. “Go on now, have a seat. There should be enough room for everyone.” 

 

One by one the party slipped into the opposing seats. For the first time ever, they could all look each other in the eyes. The whole situation was completely unsettling. On one side of the table was Stan and Bonnie while Ford and Fiddleford sat across them. Rick was too busy grabbing a chair from a nearby table and pulling it up for him to sit down. Bonnie shot him a glare from her spot but chose to say nothing. The other three shot him equally confused looks but shook it off. Letting it get to them would only cause more trouble and, to be quite honest, they had had enough trouble in the last couple hours. 

 

When the girl returned, she was carrying another armful of things: clean plates, silverware, napkins, and menus for the group to look over. It took little to no time at all for her to dress the table accordingly and disappear again only to return with glasses filled to the brim with ice water. Despite being silent, everyone reached for their glass, downing at least half within a moment of the glasses even touching the table. 

 

After containing a giggle and a chance to catch her breath, the waitress pulled a pencil from behind her ear, tapped the eraser a few times on the edge of her notepad, and addressed the table. “And what can I get you strange explorers today? Saw you pull up with Dan. I’ve seen him bring a lot of things into town but strangers? It’s definitely a first.” 

 

“He makes runs to town often?” Ford’s interest piqued. 

 

“Of course! He and the family are out there lumberjacking away. It’s only now and again that they deliver wood to town-- and now more than ever now that it’s starting to get cooler.” 

 

“Isn’t he a bit-- young to be making deliveries for the family? Shouldn’t there be an adult with him or something?”

 

The waitress giggles again. “It’s the boyish charm that keeps customers coming back for me. Don’t tell me he didn’t seem to grow on you the more you drove with him.” 

 

“Can’t say I felt a damn thing--” Rick was already finishing his first cup of water. “--I was in the fucking trunk. I’ve got about twenty bruises on my ass thanks to the twenty or so tree roots we barrelled over on our way here.” 

 

It was surprising how one person could change the entire mood of a situation. 

 

“I-- I’m ready to take orders if anyone’s ready. There’s always time to talk while the food’s cooking.” It took a while, but everyone managed to decide on something to eat. The waitress, who everyone learned was Susie, hurried back to drop off the orders and remained in the back for a little while giving the rest time to talk amongst themselves. 

 

Silence washed over the table once more and all eyes turned to glare at Rick again. 

 

“Way to go.” Bonnie’s fingers laced and she rested her chin atop her hands. “She’s the only one would can help us right now and you’re going to make her uncomfortable? You’re really doing us all a favor here, Rick.”

 

His brow furrows. “What?”

 

Her eyes roll. 

 

Stan has his arms folded on the table and his attention is directed out towards the parking lot. Ford has his hands in lap. His eyes are fixed on the droplets of water dripping down the sides of his glass and Fiddleford is sitting as still as he can. His version of stillness includes the continued bouncing of his leg, almost in the same manner as when he was back in the truck. 

 

Bonnie and Rick quiet down soon after, keeping their attention fixed on anything other than each other. It seemed as if everyone was avoiding each other. To acknowledge another person was to bring the previous events of the evening to light reminding both themselves and everyone else that what they had done was real. There was no faking what they’d gone through. 

 

The uncomfortable silence seemed to stretch on forever. Why did it always feel that way? It wasn’t as if their food would take years to cook. Perhaps wasting away in silence instead of filling it with conversation was the only reason why they all felt so uncomfortable. 

 

When Susie came back, it was evident that she could sense the discomfort around the table. She elected to not say anything. Instead, she handed out to the plates to their respective owners and, with a smile, asked if there was anything more she could do to help them that evening. 

 

Fiddleford, being the seemingly gentle soul that he was, was the first to speak. 

 

“Pardon me ma’am, but we’ve had… an eventful day. Do you think you could… if it’s not too forward… point us somewhere where we might get a few rooms? It won’t be for long. You’ve been real nice to us so far, truly, you’re the kindest face we’ve seen in awhile.” Despite being as tired as he was, Fiddleford cracked a smile. They hadn’t even been in the establishment that long and they were already forcing their discomfort onto her hospitality. A smile and a thank you was warranted. 

 

The look of shock and surprise in her face caught even herself off guard. Susie replied with a smile of her own. “Well, I can’t say you’re the most interesting gang that’s walked in through that door, but you’re close.” Ah yes, the giggle in her voice was back again. “I don’t know much about any kind of hotel or motel that’s open to handing out rooms this late at night, but I do have a few spare rooms at my place. You said you needed rooms for a little bit. Why not stay the night there and we’ll go out looking for a more permanent place in the morning?”

 

“Oh no! That’s-- that’s too intrusive! That’s kind of you, but--” 

 

Suddenly, a gaggle of feet slam into his shins, silencing him at once and causing the table to nearly lift up from the ground. All eyes turn from Fidds to the waitress. Various voices shout to her, thanking her and accepting the offer, almost a bit too eagerly. 

 

“That’d be lovely!” 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“ _ FUCK YEAH! _ ” 

“Of course! That would be fantastic!” 

 

Another laugh burst free from the waitress. This was definitely an interesting gang of individuals. Although Fidds had be forcibly silenced, his glassy doe eyes took in the commotion before finally looking to her for approval. Once she had had her fill of laughter, she shot him a shy smile and patted the table a few times to silence the group. 

  
“Alright-- alright-- finish eating and then we’ll get things ready to go. I’d rather not deal with you all while you’ve got empty stomachs. Eat up and I’ll see about leaving a bit earlier tonight. Don’t mind me. Enjoy your food!” In an instant she had disappeared into the back again, leaving everyone to dig into their dinner in a warmer silence than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things have been hectic at work and with the upcoming move back to NYC these chapters have been either late or shorter than normal. The good news is that my roommate is the one who's been helping with how the story's been going through the summer. Let me just-- ONE WHOLE SUMMER! This has been going on for close to five months can you believe it!? 
> 
> I can't wait to get more things up for you guys! On top of that, we were also talking about working on a little prequel/sequel thing for this. We already have a few ideas as well as some Gravity Falls/Rick and Morty ideas for side stories that might be fun to work on as either one shots or a series or something so be on the lookout for more information on that!


	17. Lack of Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time everyone got settled in the little cabin-esque home that was Susan’s, a gentle downpour was beginning to move in through the trees until finally resting overhead. The gang scurried their way inside to avoid getting soaked and found themselves in a warm home dripping with orange light the instant Susan flicked on the nearest switch.

By the time everyone got settled in the little cabin-esque home that was Susan’s, a gentle downpour was beginning to move in through the trees until finally resting overhead. The gang scurried their way inside to avoid getting soaked and found themselves in a warm home dripping with orange light the instant Susan flicked on the nearest switch. 

 

Sprinkled throughout the main sitting room were trinkets in the shape of cats and kittens. A cartoonish cat clock hung on the wall, its tail and eyes swaying back and forth with each ticking second. A few framed images hung beside it and, of course, there were photographs of cats staring back at them. They would’ve been unnerving had they not seemed to blend in with the aesthetic of the room as a whole. 

 

“Come in, please, make yourselves comfortable.” She spoke as if having company over was a daily occurrence, yet she also had that feeling about her that screamed ‘You’re my first guests’. 

 

Eyes traversed the room, taking in how safe and calm it looked compared to the places they’d been recently. It was definitely a change for the better. 

 

After a long while had passed and no one had taken a seat or moved from where they stood, Susan stepped forward, motioning to a long oaken sofa. There was enough room for at least three of them. There were a few arm chairs as well so everyone had an available seat. It was whether or not they’d take them that made things difficult. When Susan finally noticed why no one was sitting, she stepped forward again, realizing her blunder. 

 

Atop all the chairs were magazines of every sort along with some sewing patterns on aprons as well as a set of knitting needles seat atop at least five balls of yarn. It was a crafting disaster that needed to be remedied this instant. She scooped everything into her arms, apologizing as she did so. 

 

“My goodness! This is-- this is the most un-hospitable thing imaginable. I should’ve cleaned this up early! At work I’m on top of everything but here--  _ hah _ ! Forgetful Susan they should call me… Slow… Lazy…  _ oh boy _ … Lazy Susan fits doesn’t it.” A few of the yarn balls tumbled out of her arms and took some magazines with them. 

 

Fiddleford knelt to grab the fallen items, returning to his feet a moment later, trying his best not to chuckle. It was somewhat embarrassing to watch her struggle, so helping would ease both of their spirits. “Just lead the way and tell me where to set this down.” After shooting her a comforting grin, Susan motioned off into the other room. “I have a sewing closet just down the hall. You really don’t have to carry all of that.” 

 

“Well, neither do you. Carrying a few things to lighten the load isn’t so bad.” He nudged her on the arm and followed her off, leaving the other four back in the feline decor-covered living room.

 

However, it didn’t take long before Rick was disappearing out the door again. The action took the other three by surprise. Bonnie was the only to hurry after him, more with hopes to urge him to stick around out of fear that he’d leave again. 

 

By the time she caught up to him, he had already settled along a railing lining the back porch and lit up a cigarette. A few puffs of smoke escaped him, fading off into the rain within a matter of seconds. 

 

“You’re still doing that are you? Brooding over a cigarette? Hoping the smoke’ll mask how fucking emo you are?” She sounded mildly out of breath, but did her best to hide it. “If you’re going to pull that kind of shit, might as well light one for me you selfish bastard.” 

 

The look of shock and surprise on Rick’s face was something he hadn’t exhibited in quite some time, at least, in front of Bonnie. He did as he was told, plucking a cigarette from its box and holding it out to her. Instead of taking it casually, she bent down, taking it in her teeth and waiting expectantly for the light. 

 

He barely even looked at her. 

 

Both continued to smoke, eyes fixed on the expanse of darkness beyond the trees and the glow from the tips of their cigarettes. There was a lot out there, that much they knew, but there was plenty more between them, unsaid, and itching for a way to come out. 

 

The roof above them could only protect them from so much. 

 

Rick had nearly finished when the tension seemed to burst. The butt of his cigarette ended up in the mud and an angry flair of smoke shot from his mouth along with rage fueled words.

 

“Why did you have to come back?!” 

 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

 

“Why did you have to weasel your way back into my shit, Bon?” 

 

“What did you say?” 

 

“You heard? I said weasel-- you fucking weaseled your way back after we-- we made sure this shit wouldn’t happen again. Do you like this? Do you like runnin’ in circles? Hmm? Do you like going through all of this again cause I sure as hell don’t. And what’s worse is that it wasn’t sex this time. It was the fact that you ruined everything for me. I’ve got science. I’ve got my intelligence and this-- this was my one chance to get everything right and you fucked it up.” 

 

He reaches for the box in his pants pocket and lights a second cigarette. He can barely touch the damn thing to his lips before she’s knocking it to the ground. 

 

“The  _ FUCK _ Bonnie!” 

 

“You think your life is shit? You think your life is so shitty you have to bend time and space? You really want to risk all that cause you have regrets? Christ, Rick. We all have goddamn regrets, but you know what, some of us can’t magically poof that shit away.” She flicks the butt of her cigarette into the mud as well. “Some of us have to fucking deal with it, like adults, whether or not we’re ready.” 

 

“But you don’t--” 

 

“I don’t what? Understand?  _ Hoooo boy _ are you ignorant! You don’t realize it do you? I came back because, like it or not, I need you. There’s only so much I can do on my own and-- hell --I’ll admit to that, right here, right now.” 

 

Their gazes cross once again, this time locking in place. It’s impossible for either one to look away, no matter how much they want to. 

 

“If you think I’ve ruined your life, try walkin’ in my shoes. Try living a day surrounded by the face of the fucking devil… try lying awake at night with every waking moment I’ve spent with you playing again and again like a goddamn broken record in my head… You’re an asshole, but you’ve done some irreversible things. I’ve learned not to regret them so much cause… some of that shit is actually a gift. Call me crazy, but--” 

 

“Enough.” 

 

A finger raises to her lips. 

 

“You’ve always talked too much. Hell… that’s one of the things I couldn’t stand about you but can’t help but find endearing.” He draws the tips of his fingers up to tuck a bit of drooping hairs behind her ear. “I never wanted you to get wrapped up in this, Bon. I’m… I’m _ sorry _ .” 

 

The word is foreign on his tongue. Never before has he heard it from his own mouth. It’s enough to make him gag, but he holds his own. He means it, at least, he hopes he does. His lips tighten into a thin line, his brow furrows albeit gently, and his hand hovers by her cheek. 

 

This was bullshit. 

 

Rick was full of it. 

 

She bats his hand away without a second thought. 

 

“ _ Pathetic…. _ ” 

 

She turns on her heels and heads straight back into the house, leaving Rick to stand there by himself, letting his arm fall back to his side for only a moment. It didn’t take long before he reached for another cigarette and his lighter. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“...so that’s when you got that issue?” 

 

“I’ll be honest, at the time, I doubted it would ever get here.” 

 

“Absolutely unbelievable!” 

 

Fiddleford and Susan had made their way back down the hall to the living room when Bonnie stormed in through the porch door. It took them both by surprise. There were tears in her eyes that threatened to fall, but they held their own for the meantime. 

 

“Anything I could help you with, darlin’?” Susan reached for her, hoping to extend her a bit of moral and physical comfort. 

 

If Bonnie wasn’t so distraught, she would’ve slapped her hand away as well, but she’d be reasonable. “I-- I think I should get some rest, that’s all.” 

 

“Guest room is last door at the end of the hall upstairs. Give me a second and I can get you a toothbr--” 

 

“I’m fine… thank you. I just want to get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning…” 

 

And with that, she hurried up the stairs. A few tears had noticeably fallen as she ascended out of sight. Leaving her be seemed to be the only thing anyone could do at the moment. 

 

With Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan remaining, the only thing Susan could really do was offer up tea and coffee. It might’ve been late, but it was a symbol of hospitality. Besides, she was a waitress, she was used to asking about tea and coffee. Home or work, it didn’t matter. 

 

Ford graciously agreed to a cup of coffee and Fiddleford was quick to offer up his services again. There was some hesitation on Susan’s part, but she agreed. They’d be able to finish their conversation about magazines while they waited for the water to heat up. This left Stan and Ford on their own, seated on the newly cleared sofa. 

 

They too kept their attention directed elsewhere. 

 

Ford, however, couldn’t help but grow curious of his brother. 

 

It had been far too long without a shred of contact. A moment of each other’s time wasn’t even something they could afford anymore. Needless to say, it was rather infuriating to have to sit inches from someone who was nothing more than the shadow of the past. 

 

“You still haven’t told me who he is.” Stan made a delicate motion off towards where Susan and Fiddleford had disappeared off to. “He your new…  _ sidekick _ or something?”

 

“Hmm? Who?  _ Fiddleford _ ? He’s a dear dear friend of mine from school. He and I share a dorm together. He’s about the only person I know who can stand to share space with me.” The edge of his lips curve into something reminiscent of a smile. Lord knows the two of them had had many long nights goofing around in their dorm room what with useless experiments and last minute hypotheses they just had to prove then and there. It even warranted a half-hearted chuckle. 

 

Stan’s heart sank in his chest. Really? That guy was the only one that could stand to share space with him? How many years had he and his brother hung around each other? How inseparable had they once been? Of course, that was then, but it counted for something, didn’t it? 

 

No, he wasn’t jealous. 

 

He wasn’t hurt. 

 

“Must be all you thought it’d be, right?”

 

“From the very start.” 

 

Again, the conversation seemed to end in uncomfortable silence. No, this shouldn’t be how things end. They were better than that, at least, Ford was. 

 

“And you? How are--  _ things _ ?” 

 

There was too much interpreted sarcasm in his words for Stan to reply without being snarky. Whether or not Ford meant to be rude or not didn’t matter. Stan had gone through hell and here was his chance to say so. 

 

“Fan- _ fucking _ -tastic, thanks for asking. I’m renting out a place with a couple of let-downs, so that’s something. Always wanted a roof over my head.” His lips curled into a false grin. 

 

“Oh that’s-- that’s--” 

 

“It’s good for someone like me, right?” 

 

“Well now… that’s not---” 

 

“No, it’s alright. I get what you’re trying to say. No need to elaborate, I get it. I get it. It’s surprising that I managed to get something of my own for once.”

 

“Stanley--” 

 

“I worked for this… I worked for this and I’m paying for it, with  _ money _ . Actual money that I earned. Did you know that if you have a job, you can get paid for it? I’m not ridin’ on anyone’s coattails anymore. I’m working hard and reaping the rewards.”

 

“That’s… that’s fantastic but--” 

 

“But what? That’s not enough for you?”  

 

“No it is but--” 

 

“There’s still a but.  _ Hah _ ! First I can’t please dad and now you? Look, I don’t owe either of you anything.” 

 

“Never said you did…” 

 

“Then what do you want? It’s impossible for you to want anything cause--- cause you have everything.”

 

“Not everything.”

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

“I don’t have closure. I don’t have an understanding of your reasons for this… not just now, but from the very beginning of this mess. I want to know why.” 

 

Why-- he says.  _ Why _ ? 

 

The edges of his mouth curl into a forced grin. He bares his teeth, hands gripping the edges of the couch cushions. Stan has to avert his gaze, hoping and praying that he can hold himself together even for a moment longer. His efforts are to no avail. Streams of burning, rage-filled tears stream down his cheeks. It’s impossible to hide it now.

 

In that moment, the world went still. 

 

The slight tremor now starting in Ford’s arm was the start of the urge to comfort his brother, but he kept to himself no matter how much it hurt him. Stan had done enough to anger him as well. Lord knows this was his fault from the beginning anyway, at least, in his eyes this all stemmed from Stan. 

 

Stan was jealous of him. 

 

Stan sabotaged his life. 

 

Stan wanted to watch him suffer. 

 

Stan was acting out because he was a child--

 

\-- _ a child _ .

 

All these years, all these actions fueled by jealousy and ill-will for someone who was trying to best to strength the gifts that he had been given, it was the sole purpose for life being what it was. It was the reason why he was where he was instead of where he wanted to be. It was why he was sitting on this couch. It was why he had to come running to his brother’s aid even when he wanted to be the one sending him running. Why couldn’t he, for once, grow up! 

 

Balled fists contain the anger as best as they can but he breaks. 

 

In an instant he’s preparing himself to scream. He can feel the energy building. 

 

Ford turns, facing his brother and just when he manages to open his mouth to speak---

 

\--the squeal of the tea kettle and the laughter emanating from the kitchen cuts the moment short. 

 

Again, this would have to be pushed off until later. 

 

By the time Susan and Fiddleford had the tea and coffee fixed for everyone, Stan and Ford had ceased conversation altogether. They sat on either side of the couch, eyes fixed on something other than each other. The smile on Stan’s face had pressed into a thin line, yet the tears remained. Ford’s fists remained balled, but his mouth had been forced shut. 

 

As the two stepped foot into the sitting room with the mugs, both sets of eyes lifted. 

 

Before either could get a word in, Stan rose from his seat. 

 

“I’m not thirsty… but thank you anyway.” 

 

He too ended up disappearing up the stairs in an attempt to escape both his brother and any further confrontation. All he wanted to do now, was sleep. 

 

The hallway at the top of the stairs wasn’t very lengthy and only consisted of a few doors. What lie beyond them was a mystery except for one single bedroom. He could barely see in through the cracked, door, but he figured it was safe enough to enter. 

 

Despite the room being pitch black, he could faintly make out Bonnie’s figure sitting on the edge of the bed. Her attention shifted at the creaking door. 

 

She said nothing.

 

He said nothing. 

 

A few moments of silence passed between them. It was mutually understood that each had had a rather emotionally taxing evening. However, talking about it would only upset them further. 

 

Without saying anything, Stan stepped around her to the other side of the bed. She wouldn’t mind if he took a seat there for a while. What he wasn’t expecting was for her eyes to follow him with every step he took. It was obvious that she could see the tears on his face. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job of wiping his face clean. That didn’t seem to matter. 

 

As soon as he took his seat, she brought her head down on his shoulder. There wasn’t anything behind it. She just rested herself there without any reasoning.

 

And Stan didn’t mind it. 

  
He needed it too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in New York!!!!!!!!! I finished this chapter up after a long day of move in so I finally got to get back to writing in the city. Of course, it doesn't help when you're so high off of the excitement of being in a new place with the same old people. Of course, this fic was born here in the city so it only makes sense that it would keep going in the city. Good news though, we spent a majority of the evening planning out the end of this fic. We're more than halfway done so there's a fair bit to go, but god-- it was.... INTERESTING.


	18. One too Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had wanted to leave from the beginning. Of course, every now and again there were moments that drew her back, but all-in-all, she wanted to rid herself of her past mistakes as well as the ones she feared for the future. After hearing her explanation for it all, Stan couldn’t blame her. Things had been heated and the road they were on would only end up making things worse. This is why he wasn’t surprised when he woke up to a half empty bed.

She had wanted to leave from the beginning. 

 

Of course, every now and again there were moments that drew her back, but all-in-all, she wanted to rid herself of her past mistakes as well as the ones she feared for the future. After hearing her explanation for it all, Stan couldn’t blame her. Things had been heated and the road they were on would only end up making things worse. 

 

This is why he wasn’t surprised when he woke up to a half empty bed. 

 

Unlike the night before, the weather seemed generally nice. 

 

The sun blinded him for a moment when he sat up, but brushed it off in an instant. Both the weather and his conversation with Bonnie had really calmed him down. However, he wasn’t making any promises regarding his treatment of his brother once he went downstairs, but for now he didn’t wish for another argument to break out. They were there to get a job done, even if the morals behind this job were questionable. Stan still went along because let’s be real, anything was better than being holed up in that crack house. That was his main reason for a lot of his decisions recently. Whether or not it was a good reason didn’t hold any importance to him. 

 

All he had to do now was get off his ass and face whoever was awake. He hoped it’d be Susan. She would at least keep quiet about what had happened the night before. 

 

But, this is Stan Pines we’re talking about. The first person he stumbled into on his way downstairs was Ford. He was still seated on the couch, probably in the same spot as the night before. Stan said nothing as he passed, heading into the hall and following the same path that Susan and Fiddleford had walked along to retrieve the coffee and tea from the kitchen. He helped himself to a glass of water, lord knows he needed it, and settled himself down at the kitchen table. It wasn’t very big and it wasn’t comfortable, but it sure beat sitting out on the couch with his brother. 

 

The last thing he expected was for Ford to take the first step towards reconciling anything, especially another near shouting match. They should’ve been used to those by now, but it always seemed to be something new when push came to shove. Before he knew it, Stanford was seated across from him, an empty water glass in his hands more for comfort than anything. 

 

“Good-morning.” 

 

Stan said nothing in reply. 

 

“I know you’re going to hate talking about what happened last night but-- I wanted you to know that I’m… I’m  _ sorry _ . 

 

Stan cocked a brow, still keeping his eyes fixed on the table. 

 

“You had every right to be upset--  _ have _ every right to be upset. You’ve had that right from the beginning and… and I was in the wrong.” 

 

“You’re right-- you were.” 

 

“I know, that’s what I’m admitting to.” 

 

After a long night, the two finally shared a gaze. 

 

“You’re-- _ admitting it _ ?”

 

Ford nodded. 

 

“You’re _ serious _ ?”

 

A second nod followed suit.

 

“What the--”

 

“FUUUUUU*buuurp*UUUUUCK-- that was a hell of a night.” 

 

A familiar slip of the tongue follows the echo of a burp from the other room. If there was a door, Stan was positive Rick would’ve kicked it down to enhance his grand entrance. 

 

Long legs stride the length of kitchen, thin fingers wrap themselves around the handle of the refrigerator and he helps himself to the carton of orange juice. 

 

The twins eye him down, silently judging his actions. 

 

The juice carton leaves his lips for a muttered, “Fuck you too” before a hand dips into his back pocket, pulling a flask free and emptying the contents into the orange juice. Was it too early-- maybe, but fuck it, it was Rick Sanchez he just did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. 

 

All attention on the lengthy drunk in the corner of the room shifted the moment Fiddleford stomped his way in, clearly upset with them for some reason. He eyed each one of them for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“ ’s wrong with you Old McDonald? Up late last night doin’ a little-- a little ‘ _ E I E I O _ ’ if you know what I’m-- I’m talkin’ ‘bout?” Rick shoots up a finger gun and tosses the now empty carton into the garbage can. 

 

If his arms could’ve crossed  _ harder _ , they would’ve. 

 

“No one’s ready to hit the road?” 

 

“And why would we be leaving now? Where are we even going Fiddleford?” Leave it to Ford to ask the important questions. Someone had to. 

 

Hands move from his chest to his hips. “Susie’s taking us to town, didn’t ya’ll hear?” 

 

“No--” 

“I didn’t…” 

“When did we agree on this  _ bullshit _ ?”

 

“We didn’t. I made the choice because it would be good for everyone to get both fresh air and answers. If I hadn’t, we would’ve been here for hours trying to figure out what to do. I made it easier, you can thank me later. Now-- let’s go! Come on! Times a’wastin’!” 

 

Even though everyone was confused, they followed along after him. Maybe he had a point. Last night had scattered everyone’s thoughts. Thank god there was at least one person who was thinking logically. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

One by one they filed into the car, buckled (the responsible ones), and headed off towards town. 

 

Trees changed to paved streets and then again to a rocky drive. There weren’t very many people hanging around the sidewalks apart from the occasional mother and her baby or someone busying themselves with something. No one could really tell what it was, so they just let it slide as ‘work’. 

 

On the drive, Fiddleford informed the rest of the group that they were headed to the heart of Gravity Falls. There could find the town museum as well as the library. Hopefully one of those two places could help to give them answers to whatever questions they had. They might not help with Rick’s endeavor to find a way to travel through time, but it would definitely help explain where they were and how safe it was from the Council of Ricks. 

 

Susan drove around to the front steps of the library and let everyone out. 

 

“I’ll be back around during my lunch break to check up on everyone. Fiddleford has the number of the diner in case anything goes wrong. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything.” 

 

A smile and a wave sent them on their way. 

 

It was now the four of them and the entire library. 

 

Fiddleford and Ford immediately went about inquiring on history books of the town and soon left Stan and Rick to fend for themselves. In all honesty, what were the two of them supposed to do in a library? They weren’t readers, and the few books Rick pulled off the shelves weren’t in the least bit interesting. They soon found their way to floor and, in a fit of embarrassment, found their way back once Stan noticed the eyes of the librarian burying themselves into the both of them. 

 

“ _ Goddamn _ I’m bored….” His statement drew a few more eyes in their direction and librarian ended up shushing them. Rick was a bit too loud for a library. “We-- We should get the fuck out of here and do something fun.” 

 

This time Stan found himself shushing him too. 

 

“As much as I want to, we’re supposed to stick with those two.” 

 

“Stick with your brother? After what happened last night? Why the hell would you want to fall back into the same rut as last time?”

 

Oh yeah-- that hurt a bit, but he’d let it slide,  _ again _ . 

 

“What happened last night was something that had been waiting to happen for years. Glad we got it out of the way. Ford’s realized his mistakes and owned up to them. Can’t help but forgive him I guess--” 

 

“You guess… fuck-- your brother has you  _ whipped _ . You’re really gonna believe that he feels bad?” 

 

“Maybe?”

 

“No-- the answer is no. Now come on, I think I’m outta juice. Let’s go find the-- the damn booze in this town.” A firm hand took Stan’s wrist and nearly dragged him out of the library and back down the stairs. It wasn’t until they were a good way down the street and Stan had complained a good bit that Rick finally let go of his arm. 

 

“You do know that I never agreed to go with you, right?” 

 

“Yes you did-- you… you know you did.” 

 

Rick quickly disappeared down a back alley and turned up before a shady looking door. Hands and fingers were outstretched towards the rusted metal separating them from god knows what. 

 

A quick knock, the slide of a latch revealing a pair of eyes, and some hushed whispers were their key to enter a seemingly black hole that occasionally pulsed with pink and purple lights. Everything felt so familiar yet so new at the same time. 

 

The pungent smell of sex and alcohol drew the two of them with uncertainty yet excitement. It’s like he had been here before. 

 

Rick is the first to sit his ass down at the bar and order a handful of shots which he shoves in front of Stan once he catches up. With one extended towards Stan, Rick downs it in a matter of seconds, almost as if he’s toasting him for some reason. 

 

There’s a moment of hesitation followed by his brother’s voice at the heart of his thoughts urging him to come back to library and play it safe. 

 

Before he can convince himself otherwise, Rick’s handing him a drink of his own. 

 

“Come on-- l-l-loosen up a bit Pines.” He downs his second shot. “For-- for once we’re not running! Don’t leave me hangin’!” 

 

By the time he’s sitting, he’s completely pushed his brother’s voice from his mind. Yeah, Ford wasn’t controlling him anymore. He admitted to all the shit he’d done. Stan deserved this. His hand reaches for the glass and down it goes in a solid gulp. The liquid burns as it goes down, but it leads the way for another and another and another still. 

 

Number… well he can’t remember the number but it’s less than twenty, goes down with no problem at all. Rick’s no longer sitting next to him, instead, he’s prancing around dance floor grinding whoever he can find for as long as he can before they push him off or leave him altogether. It’s enough of a sight to force a drunken laugh from Stan’s lips along with a grin. 

 

Every now and again Rick would glance over, catch Stan laughing, and find himself bursting out into a fit of chuckles himself. Maybe dancing in this state wasn’t the best idea, but it sure was a sight to watch gangly arms and legs struggle to keep him up and functioning. 

 

When he finally made it back to the seat at Stan’s side, a firm arm came to wrap around his shoulders. 

 

“Y’know-- I… I doubted you Sanchez… I thought you were…. y’know nothing but a goddamn drunk but… here we are-- makin’ history.” 

 

“History? I--I--I don’t know ‘bout history but… we’re sure as hell do*buuurp*in’ something spontaneous.” He too wrapped his arm around his companion’s shoulder. It was a bit more contorted than Stan’s but, oh well, he didn’t care. “Glad I picked you up buddy--” 

 

And there it was, the age-old question that Stan had nearly forgotten. Despite being piss-drunk, it was really tugging at his thoughts. “You… you never told me why you picked me up, Rick… thought you would’ve at least explained yourself by now.” 

 

“Hmm?” Oh yeah, he hadn’t really elaborated on the whole thing. That first night in the burlesque wasn’t just an act of chance, but it really wasn’t planned out either. A bit of it had been fabricated, and by a bit of it-- it was mostly _ all _ of it. “Well… y-y-y’see Pines… I was gonna go solo but things always wo*hic*rk best with a partner in crime. You fit the bill and here we are.” 

 

“No no-- I’m serious. You saw me ‘n all that so… there’s gotta be somethin’ right?” 

 

“ _ Saw you _ ? ‘Course I fuckin’ saw you-- I-I-I’ve got two eyes haven’t I?” 

 

“You said you saw through some… some glimpse through time or some shit--” 

 

“What?” He pauses. “ _ Fuuuuuck _ … I just-- you  _ believed _ me?” 

 

“Then how-- did you know my name?” 

 

From his back pocket, Rick pulls a small laminated card and slides it across the table in Stan’s direction. It was his driver’s license. 

 

“Knicked y-your ID when I was… up on your di*buuurp*ck. Didn’t think you’d need it in space but I-- I had to impress you somehow right?” He wiggles his fingers a bit. “-- _ Magic _ .” 

 

So he didn’t see Stan in some sort of vision? He wasn’t really some prophecy? He wasn’t the chosen one? He was just a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time with an easily accessible form of ID and a gullible personality. 

 

Then if that was the case--

 

“Why’d you drag me along with you then?” Stan’s arm slips from Rick’s shoulders. Frankly, he was a bit hurt at the fact that he had been led to believe all of these things. They were ridiculous from the get-go, so why had he believed them in the first place? 

 

Rick’s arm dropped as well and eyes moved from empty cup to the look of utter disbelief on his companion’s face. Was he really still  _ that _ oblivious? Well, Rick was drunk enough and Stan was stupid enough in this moment that it wouldn’t be that difficult to conjure up the confidence to do something absolutely insane. 

 

“You’re lookin’ for a-a-a reason? Hmm?” Balled fists wrap themselves in the front of his shirt before nearly forcing him off of his seat. Stan slams a hand on the countertop while the glass in his other hand falls to floor with a crash. Glass scatters at their feet, but it’s not either’s main concern. 

 

The alcohol aids in the confusion, but it also works to ease them both into the situation at hand. Rick’s used to this sort of behavior, but Stan-- this is a first on a whole new level. The two remain stagnant for a moment, getting a feel for the situation. 

 

Despite being tense, Stan can feel himself warming to the sensation of pressure on the tips of his lips. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this. It’s almost as if Rick’s awaiting some kind of unspoken approval or action to move forward. 

 

And that’s when he can hear it. ‘ _ Just fucking do it. _ ’ (Which is the alcohol, obviously)

 

The hand drenched with whatever was in his glass wraps itself around the curve of Rick’s head, holding him steady as a sign that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

 

That’s when he felt it: the curve of Rick’s lips against his own in a subtle yet noticeable smirk. 

 

Mouths grind against mouths, the occasional gasp for breath draws them apart for a moment to both comprise themselves and to get in a silent chuckle here and there. It isn’t long before their back at each other again, sloppily sucking at each other’s lips. The occasional tongue slipped past, running along the innermost parts of each other’s mouths. 

 

Whether it was the alcohol or some other force that kept him there, Stan couldn’t quite figure it out. At this point, he was more centered on keeping his lips parted enough in case Rick wanted to take things by the reigns, which he did--  _ immediately _ . 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Next thing Stan knew, he was being pushed flat on his back on Bonnie’s bed. He didn’t exactly remember what had happened between the two of them going at it at the club and when they got back to Susan’s, but he couldn’t be bothered to. 

 

Rick sat straddled across Stan’s waist, both hands busying themselves with getting his shirt up and over his head. That slender frame was exactly the same as when Stan first saw it up on that stage. Hands and fingers move from his sides to legs and thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath his touch. 

 

A free set of hands settle to either side of Stan’s head as Rick lowers his head to peck at his lips once more. There’s little to no speech between the two of them apart from a few noises of approval and confirmation of the direction their endeavors are taking them. 

 

Hips dip and grind forwards and back every now and again with hopes that even the slightest reaction would be considered a success. 

 

The pad of Rick’s thumb tilted Stan’s jaw ever so slightly, giving him enough of a space to trail kisses down the side of his mouth, his jaw, beneath his jaw-line, and finally resting on a tender patch of skin on his neck. It’d be the perfect place to make his mark. 

 

Kisses lead to gentle sucks and soon grow to sharp teeth digging in against verbal protests. 

 

“You’re  _ mine _ Pines.” 

 

And that’s when it hit. 

 

Something was wrong. 

 

It had taken him this long to realize it, but it was impossible to really bring things up without stopping the sensations that trailed through his nerves. He didn’t want this to end, but he didn’t want to betray someone who had listened to him and helped him despite a few of his protests and plenty of moments when he sat battered and bloody. 

 

“ _ No _ \-- Rick I-- You _ need _ to stop.” 

 

He grabs Rick’s forearms, hoping to pry them from where they’ve settled themselves. The hand beneath his chin removes itself but is instantly replaced with the other as tendril-like fingers curl about his neck. 

 

“Rick--” Stan fights back against his fingers, almost prying them off. “--Rick you need to stop. What about  _ Bonnie _ ?” 

 

They had gone the whole day without mentioning her. No one seemed to realize she was missing. Why hadn’t Stan heard her name? Why hadn’t Rick made a pointed statement at the fact that she left them? Why had everyone moved on as if nothing was the matter and there was one less member of their gang. 

 

How had Rick not realized when he had spent the whole evening arguing with her? 

 

Unless-- 

 

Fingers tightened, leaving Stan gasping for breath. The lips against his neck remove themselves if only for a moment. They remain parted in order to let a chilled breath slip through and send shivers up the other’s spine. 

 

The same chilled stream of breaths traced the curve of his neck up towards the tip of ear. What had once been a pair of warm, tender lips are now replaced with a colder pair as they nip along his ear’s edge. 

 

And that’s when his suspicions are confirmed-- 

 

“ _ Who’s Bonnie? _ ” 

 

The moment Rick raises himself back up, Stan’s confronted with a pair of sharp, golden, cat-eyes. They’re unlike anything he’s ever seen. One this is for sure--

  
\--this isn’t Rick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally wrote some sin folks. Of course, it's not as sinful as some of the ideas we had for it. Besides, it took way too long for us to actually get in the right mindset to write this. Most of the time we ended up (and by we I mean me...) getting distracted by just about everything on every other tab open on Chrome. Thanks Chrome! Thumbs up! But, in the end, we finally get to show off a bit of what's to come-- and by that I mean some really messed up shit. (Real phucked up prank shit) Just kidding, but seriously-- things are going to get really whack and we're both sorry for what's to come. Kind of. Not really. Oh well. (Oh and Olivia says hi)


	19. Read the Fine Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who’s Bonnie?”  
> “Who’s Bonnie?”  
> “Who’s Bonnie?”
> 
> It was an impossible question with an answer that was equally as impossible.  
> So why had he suddenly forgotten who she was?

The words seem to echo over and over his head.

 

“ _Who’s Bonnie?_ ”

“ _Who’s Bonnie?_ ”

“ _Who’s Bonnie?_ ”

 

It was an impossible question with an answer that was equally as impossible. This was the woman he fought with, had history with, and couldn’t help but run back into time and time again, at least, that’s what Stan figured. Bonnie had laid everything out for him. Everything she had said held water and was extremely personal to not only her, but her maniac of a partner (or ex-partner). There wasn’t a part of that past that didn’t include Rick.

 

So why had he suddenly forgotten who she was?

 

“What the _hell_ …?”

 

The room about him nearly froze in place. The sickening image of a face so familiar yet so contorted with sudden unfamiliarity still hung ever so slightly above him.

 

It was _beyond_ horrifying.

 

Stan mustered his mostly-drunken strength and shoved the slender figure from his waist. Rick, or what had seemed like Rick, collapsed to his side, the sickening grin of confidence taking form on his features. A hand even moved to take hold of Stan’s wrist. Instead of the once inviting and passionate grip, he was greeted with violence and dominance. The tips of fingers wrapped their cold and nearly dead hold on him. A quick pull of his arm released the grasp.

 

“No-- don’t… **_don’t touch me_ **!”

 

Air, that’s what he needed, good clean air.

 

He pushed past the bedroom door, not even considering the noise he was making. In fact, he didn’t quite remember how he clumsily stumbled down the stairs until he was stepping off of the back porch and making his way into the forest.

 

Everything was a blur.

 

What had even happened?

 

Was there something he wasn’t getting?

 

It wasn’t until he found himself completely lost that it hit him, well, _something_ hit him. A fist collided with the back of his head sending him spiraling to the dirt.

 

“Stanley-- Stanley-- running away is going to get you absolutely nowhere, especially when you’re on my turf.”

 

That voice, it was no longer Rick’s.

 

Fists balled catching dirt beneath untrimmed fingernails. In that instant, he felt like he was going to vomit. The sickening burning of bile rose in his throat, but he held it back, swallowed it, and sat himself up to face those same penetrating eyes. They still shimmered that same iridescent gold that he had seen only moments earlier. He wasn’t imagining it as much as he wanted to believe he was.

 

“Your turf? Are you insane?”

 

Again, he laughed. “I may be, I might not be. Think about it Pines, am I _really_ the one you should be asking?”

 

“And what the hell do you mean by that?”

 

A half of his companion’s unibrow cocked. Clearly he was unimpressed, but he was moreso confused himself. Stanley Pines was smart, at least a little bit. Why couldn’t he have used his rare brilliance in a moment like this?

 

“I guess I can give you that one. You’ve got a good crop of questions floating around in that head of yours, but you don’t necessarily need me to answer all of them.” The image of Rick before him flickered only momentarily, leaving a silhouette in the shadow of the forest that was neither human nor animal. It wasn’t malformed either. It was-- sharp; sharp lines, sharp gaze, even the way its form shifted had a sharp and jarring sight.

 

That’s when all thoughts failed to stay cohesive. The questions that had once plagued his thoughts all turned to one and before too long it was leaving Stan’s lips.

 

“ _Who are you_?”

 

It must’ve been what the other was after. He was far too excited at the prospect of introducing himself that he could barely contain his Rick facade which faded in an instant. No longer was the disheveled alcoholic standing there. Instead, a golden triangle of a creature hovered a good few feet off the ground. Atop its head was a lengthy top hat and in its hand was a dark cane, curved at the handle.

 

Thin, tendril-like fingers pinched the bridge of the hat before giving it a gentle tip in Stan’s direction. Everything about him screamed ‘gentleman’ but held such an uncomfortable air that it was impossible to do anything out of fear this demeanor might shatter.

 

“The name’s Bill.”

 

“Bill? Got a last name?”

 

“Cipher, but the fellas all call me Bill.”

 

The hat settled itself back atop the point that served as the topmost point. Despite not having a second eye, it felt as if the first one had the ability to wink at him, if that was even possible.

 

Nothing about him seemed safe.

 

“Alright Bill, you wanna tell me what the hell’s goin’ on?” The question alone was treading on thin ice, however, he wanted to know. Had anything about that day been real? Did that mean his brother’s apology had been fake as well?

 

Of course! There was no way he’d even consider his own brother when going off on a rant about how he’d been hurt. Sure, he’d been hurt, but here was Stan, suffering while Ford went off to his nerd school to pursue something that made him happy. He was going to succeed and Stan was going to fail. That’s just how it seemed to be these days.

 

A hearty chuckle echoed about the forest, almost as if there were no source at all. However, Stan knew full well it was his newfound companion. “You know… you might not believe me, but I know more about you then you could ever believe. See, this forest, this town, all of it’s something like a home to me. You follow? Anyway-- everything that crosses into this town is… in a way… something of interest to me. The moment you and your gang of misfits crossed the lines into this town, you sparked my interest.” The golden triangle hovers closer and extends a hand. It took a moment for Stan to feel entirely comfortable taking it.

 

“I know your name, your brother’s name, your companions, all you’ve done so far, and all you will do. Call me something of… prophet.”

 

Once Stan’s situated on his feet and dusted off, he can finally get a good look of the creature besides him. Despite his triangular shape, there’s an odd feeling about him. He looks to have another dimension to his being that is almost other-worldly. There’s a light pattern across what would be the closest thing to a torso but seems to flicker in and out of existence every now and again. The only thing that remains still is the bowtie that sits with no identifiable point of connection to the rest of his body. The pupil in the center of the singular eye follows Stan’s own long enough to understand what he’s doing. It isn’t as if he’d figure him out from a single glance, but it’s enough to make him worried.

 

In the blink of an eye, Bill disappears only to reappear behind Stan seconds later.

 

“Haven’t you ever heard that it’s rude to stare?”

 

“And what you’ve put me through today hasn’t been?”

 

“Touché, but to be fair, it’s better than hanging around with those guys, right? I mean, we’re here to talk about _you_.” Stumpy hands suddenly produce hands and gesture in his direction. “Let’s say I’m something like a business type fairy godmother. I know what you want and I can make that happen. You just need to provide me with a few things and - BAM - we’re in business.”

 

What-- what _did_ he want?

 

All this time chasing Rick around universe after universe didn’t really mean much to him, but there was something he got out of all that. Running into his brother was another thing entirely, but that didn’t sum up what he wanted. There was something in all of this that he loved. There was a part of it that gave him a reason to wake up in the morning but he could, for the life of him, figure out what that thing was. There was something he wanted, that much was true, but putting a finger on it was just too difficult for him to do.

 

Whatever that was, he wanted it…

 

...and Bill knew.

 

“Hold it, hold it. You can’t just pull that. You can’t just get all cryptic like that. I want to know what I’m gettin’ into before I start making deals. I want to know what I’m gettin’ and I want to know what I’m givin’. If you can answer both of those, then maybe I’ll consider this little… business transaction of yours.”

 

If Bill had a mouth, it would’ve been smiling.

 

“Alright, I getcha Pines. It’s only understandable that I lay down everything ahead of time.”

 

Here it comes…

 

“It’s painfully obvious that you’re jealous of your brother, right? You can’t hide that from anyone, but-- I’ve got just the thing to help you prove that you’re just as valuable to this group as he is-- besides, you’ve been with Rick the longest, right?” That much was true. “See, I know about this little science project he’s working on and it just so happens that I know what you’re missing. I can’t get anything for you, but I tell you what it is, where it is, and how to use it.”

 

It all sounded good so far.

 

“And what do I have to give you to get this… information.”

 

“Absolutely nothing.”

 

Nothing?

 

“Well… you’re not giving me anything physical that is. No stealing your soul. I don’t go for that. I’m more interested in coming along for the ride. No one’ll see I’m there, but I’ll be piggy-backing. That’s all I want out of this. Just promise that when you’ve got it, you take it right back here to Gravity Falls. I’ll be off your back and the deal ends there. How’s that sound?”

 

All it all, it didn’t sound bad at all. There wasn’t anything for Stan to worry about given that Bill wouldn’t be seen. No one would know that Stan had made the deal and he’d be flying high with the information he held over his brother. Sure, why wouldn’t he shy away from an offer to stand above his brother for once.

 

“Y’know-- yeah, if you wanna come along, then feel free to tag along. Just make sure you’re not seen and we won’t have a problem. You get what you want, I get what I want, and when we get back, we part ways. Is that what you’re gettin’ at?”

 

“ _To a T_.”

 

“Then a deal’s a deal.”

 

Thin black fingers extend towards him again. This time, it’s a make it or break it deal. The second time Stan reaches for Bill’s hand, it’s without hesitation. This is what he wants. This is what he’s going to use to get ahead of his brother for once in his life.

 

This is what’s ultimately going to throw him for loop.

  
This is what wakes up the body that once belonged to Stan Pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long-- Whoops...
> 
> School's suddenly kicked up a notch, especially since I have to studio courses on the same day and I've been trying my best to do more with the school such as D&D club and going out to actually go on walks as opposed to lying in bed sleeping and watching YouTube all day. 
> 
> On top of that, I have a girlfriend now so we've been spending time together as well. 
> 
> I started this chapter weeks ago but never found the motivation to finish it. Thank god I finally did though! I'm going to try and keep things going because I know there are some great chapters coming up in the near future. 
> 
> I also apologize for leaving you all on a cliff-hanger. What a dick thing to do!


	20. A New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know about you guys, but I’d like to get the fuzz off my ass. Outrunning them isn’t going to work this time. With the amount of times I’ve shit on their little club meetings and ‘whoooo*buuuurp*lesome family name’ I’m surprised they haven’t caught up, which is good for us. It means if you do well today, my plan just might work.”
> 
> “You have a plan?” Fiddleford spun around in his seat.
> 
> “‘Course I have a plan. I wasn’t sure about it until… just now actually.”

Breakfast was… surprisingly silent. 

 

Of course, Ford was the first to make his way into the heavily feline-decorated kitchen, already dressed at the break of dawn. Even without his standard issue alarm that he kept at close hand at school, he could still wake himself up whenever he chose. It didn’t really matter whether or not he could get to sleep. The fact was, he bred himself on a military grade sleep schedule. Sleep wasn’t really a luxury to be taken lightly when there was so much else he could be accomplishing. 

 

Which led to why he was up at the crack of dawn. 

 

The gang had made a decision, or rather, he spoke for the group, and decided that heading into town to get some information about their surroundings and what the town had to offer their quest was the top priority for this brand new day. He’d spring the idea on them once everyone was up and at ’em. If Stan had worked out his rage from last night and Bonnie and Rick had settled things as smoothly as they could, then who’s to say that things wouldn’t go off without a hitch! 

 

The first one down after Ford was Fidds who waddled his way down with a yawn and a few stretches starting in his hands and moving it’s way down through his arms and legs. Despite it being a good two hours later, the amount of sleep he had gotten wasn’t as fulfilling as he had hoped. 

 

“Good morning Fiddleford.” An overwhelming smell of coffee brewing already had his companion’s senses reeling. 

 

“Good….  _ Good morning _ … You’ve already got the coffee going, hm?” 

 

“Wouldn’t be a ‘good morning’ without it.” He shot the other as genuine a grin as he could. Thoughts of the previous night just wouldn’t leave him be. Although he was willing to forgive and forget for the sake of survival, something about it still kept him coming back to go over the things that were said, the things that were done, the feelings that were hurt-- 

 

\--had it really been that long since his brother trusted him? 

 

\--had it really been that long since he could call his brother a friend? 

 

Before he could even contemplate the idea of the genuine fissure that was tearing them apart, another set of footsteps thudded down the stairs. Oh how he wished, for once, that it would be Rick. 

 

However, his wishes were only wishes. The familiar face of his brother soon passed the final stretch of hallway before slipping past the doorframe to the kitchen. Without a word, he took his seat across the table from Fiddleford. The only thing he could busy himself with was the coffee pot that Ford placed on the table and the mountain of mugs that sat arranged on the table. 

 

He picked the topmost cup off the arrangement and filled it halfway to the brim. It took only a few seconds before his eyes lifted to match his brother’s gaze. 

 

“Any milk?” 

 

Despite his urge to say something back, Ford headed to the fridge, popped it open, and sifted through for the milk. As horrible as he felt about looking through a stranger’s things (even though she explicitly said before he went to bed that he was welcome to anything) he couldn’t leave his brother hanging. At least putting forth an effort to reconcile would lead to the next step in working things out. 

 

The milk was poured, stirred, and handed back to be refrigerated. 

 

Nothing was said about their fight. 

 

Nothing. 

 

It was a silence that seemed to drag on and on and on. Minutes felt like hours. The atmosphere grew heavier the longer the three sat and drank their coffee. 

 

What a good morning indeed. 

 

Then, as if a bomb went off, Rick Sanchez stormed down the stairs. He lacked a proper pair of pants and wandered around in a pair of tattered boxers. They were torn around the bottom of the legs and a few weird stains seemed to draw pointed lines from the middle of his legs up to the center of his upper thighs. No one had the heart to ask him about. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t. 

 

Rick burst around the corner with an exhausted, and quite sudden, yawn; the scratch of his balls, and the pounding of his free fist against the doorframe. 

 

“Fuuuuuuuu _ *buuurp* _ uuuuuuck. What a night, eh Tri-guys?” 

 

The sudden exclamation catches the three completely off guard. Coffee is nearly spilt, heart almost cease their beats, and a round of chills shoots up each one’s spine. Of course, leave it to Rick Sanchez to nearly end three lives just by entering a room. 

 

“If I remember correctly,” Ford retorts, nursing his coffee mug, “dwelling on the past isn’t going to help secure our futures. We have work to do today.” 

 

A delicate sip of his beverage is all he really needs in this moment to collect his composure once more. Leave it to Stanford to take up the leadership position almost instantly. Maybe because the task at hand had everything to do with his area of expertise: research. Even the idea of being able to solve this problem with a cleverly written passage in hard binding somewhere out there had a wave of adrenaline surging through the veins of a scholar. This was the feeling of pure excitement and uncertainty. 

 

“I expect you to take this seriously, Rick.” 

 

It takes only a few seconds for Rick to fold his arms across his chest and lean himself up against the doorframe. 

 

“If I wasn’t serious about this then some of us wouldn’t be here. I think you all can figure out who those select few would be.” Eyes dart between Ford and Fidds who shrink back slightly at the thought. “But, you’ve got a point Poindexter. I expect  _ results _ today gents, not just encyclopedia entries and Oxford dictionary definitions. We’re not just lookin’ to figure out where the hell we are but to find out how the fuck we’re gonna get out of here and fix the shit we’re in.” 

 

His arms unfold in order for him to scratch his head. 

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’d like to get the fuzz off my ass. Outrunning them isn’t going to work this time. With the amount of times I’ve shit on their little club meetings and ‘ _ whoooo _ *buuuurp* _ lesome family name _ ’ I’m surprised they haven’t caught up, which is good for us. It means if you do well today, my plan just might work.” 

 

“You have a plan?” Fiddleford spun around in his seat. 

 

“‘Course I have a plan. I wasn’t sure about it until… just now actually.” 

 

“If you thought about it just now, how do you expect us to believe that it’s going to work?” 

 

Ford was the next to voice his opinion on the matter, promptly taking another sip of his coffee. 

 

“I expect you to believe that any plan is better than no plan at all.” 

 

As far as they knew, Susan was planning on driving them into town on her way to work and picking them up outside of the town hall to head home for the evening. From the time they got there to the time they left, it was up to them to figure out what they were going to do. Since Rick was the one to get everyone into this mess then it made sense that he’d be the one to put things back together again. The only thing that he didn’t think he could actively fix right now was his splintering relationship with Bonnie, or whatever he called their continued companionship. 

 

“It’s just going to be us guys today taking on the town. I need you to find as much as you can on conspiracies. Find the town drunks if you have to-- I don’t give a shit. As long as someone’s going off about aliens and what not then I want to know what they have to say. Got it?” 

 

It was crazy, that much was true. 

 

“Okay, and let’s say we got this information, what do we do with it? Just pass it along to you?” Ford finished his coffee off and settled the mug in the empty sink. “You know what, forget I asked. I’ll have something that you can use, promise.” 

 

“If it’s the library--” It was the first time Stan took interest in the conversation. His gaze remained fixed on the table, but he spoke as if he was addressing his brother and his brother only. “--then I’m going too.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“You’re…. What?” 

 

“I said I’m going with you if you’re headed to the library.” 

 

Queue the shock. 

 

All eyes turn to face Ford. This was a situation that involved him directly and a situation that only he could resolve. With the events of the previous night, it only made sense. 

 

Another awkward silence fell over the room. 

 

A great number of things were running through his head: Is forgiveness logical? Will this just end up the same as it always does? What is he trying to do? Is this an apology? Have I finally gotten to him? 

 

“If you’re going with us…. then I expect you to put in the effort to investigate along with us. No slipping off to go get a drink. No stopping to chat up the locals. You need to be fully dedicated to your work here, is that understood? Either you’re with us or you’re against us here Stan.” 

 

It took little to no time for him to answer. 

 

“I’m with you.” 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Susan drove the four of them into town, excluding Bonnie who wasn’t in her bed when Ford went by her room to wake her up. He wasn’t worried. She was a capable woman able to handle herself. Besides, her things were still piled on a nearby desk chair. She would be back to get them. 

 

Now they stood at the foot of a set of wooden stairs leading to a less-than-mildly-impressive looking wooden lodge. With what little they knew of the town from speaking with the locals, they had finally ended up at their destination, the library. This wasn’t the most disappointing library Ford had seen, but it definitely ranked compared to some of the community establishments that carried old second hand copies of the Encyclopedia Britannica with missing pages and spines worn down more from age and misuse than anything else. 

 

“This it?” With refilled flask (they had tried to dissuade Rick from making a ‘pit stop’ at the nearest bar but it was to no avail) he took a swig and wandered his way up the small stoop to the set of double doors. 

 

Like a drunken sheriff at a saloon, Rick burst through to the dust covered shelves and wooden dining tables all lit by flickering lamp-light. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but that made their work a bit easier. All they had to do was go around looking for suspicious scripts and literature, at least, that’s what Ford had said on the walk over. Judging from the folks they met around town, he was positive that at least one book would seem out of place. Now was the time for them to actually come together to find it. 

 

“Yes Rick, this is all we have to work with. It isn’t much, but we can weed something out if we put down the flask and start looking.” Nervous hands reach out the lower the nearly half-empty flask from his companion’s mouth. Moisture was already beginning to coat his bottom lip and dribble down the edges of his mouth. Perhaps he’d had too much today. “So, to make things easier, we’re going to split up.” 

 

Even though someone needed to keep an eye on the drunk, it would be far easier to conduct research without the constant babbling, cursing, loud-mouthedness, and overall tomfoolery that came along with too much alcohol pulsing through one’s bloodstream. If his antics got too out of hand, he’d stick him with Stan. Lord knows his brother knew far too well what being drunk felt like. 

 

In the end, Ford decided to take the back row of shelves, Fiddleford would take the west side of the library, Stan would take the east, and Rick would-- well he’d just do whatever felt ‘right’. That’s how he put it. Without wanting to find out what exactly constituted as ‘right’, everyone took off towards their respective location. Ford had decided that if no one found anything worthwhile after a few hours, they’d head to the first few tables and work out what to do next. 

 

The goal was to find anything even remotely close to a kind of weird conspiracy theory or rumor. It all seemed easy enough to start with, especially since all the books here seemed to be handwritten diaries and fascinating historical accounts related directly to the town’s history. Judging by how everything seemed to hold up, these books could’ve easily been a decades old. Their contents, on another note, could’ve stood for hundreds. That alone didn’t make sense. If they were sitting out in the open like this, then there had to have been some sort of wear on them. Nothing of the sort seemed to exist apart from a layer of dust that caked the top and sides. Every find had the potential of being incredible but ultimately led to another dead end. Nothing seemed like it really fit the idea that Rick was going for. Then again, what  _ was _ he going for? He had mentioned a lot of nonsense throughout the entire time the gang had been together, but most if not all of it had held up. 

 

His science fictional rants ended up coming to fruition in the strangest ways and still, there was this mutual trust. If everyone buckled down and took him seriously, then maybe they’d understand just what the hell he was on about. He hadn’t let them down so far, so why would he now? It was a truly horrifying sort of faith. 

 

Minutes turned to hours. If anyone had found anything, they’d have it back at their meeting place. Each one held high hopes that at least someone, anyone, came across something that could benefit them. 

 

Alas, nothing. Not a single book or essay or-- anything. 

 

Better still, only three of them had managed to find their way back. The only one missing now was Stanley. Surprise surprise-- Ford should’ve guessed this from the get go. The minute everyone’s back was turned, he would give up and head off on his own. Still, his absence was a bit disconcerting. Perhaps he had just gotten lost. There was always that. The poor fool probably hadn’t stepped into a library once in his entire life. 

 

After settling Rick into a chair and giving Fiddleford full permission to smack him if he did anything stupid, Ford went off to find his brother. 

 

Luckily for him, the library hadn’t been half destroyed in a drunken mess, however, papers were spilled here and there, almost as if they were strategically placed. Each one sported strange scrawlings and markings bleeding through to each page’s underside. A few had pictures scratched on in different colored inks and unique writing utensils. After rounding a corner, he finally caught hold of the source. 

 

There, on the floor in the middle of the isle, sat Stan. 

 

Surrounding him were various papers, articles, strips of paper and what almost appeared to be a leather-like fabric that also exhibited the same characters and text. Stan sat with a large folder in his arms, like someone had tried to glue two or three manila folders together to hold all their findings. His brother eyes were wide, scanning along the papers before him like he was reading them. He understood none of it yet looked to be trying to take it all in. Upon Ford’s approach, he craned his neck up to meet his gaze. With so much as blinking, he spoke. His deadpan tone delivered his consensus in a form of whisper loud enough for Ford to hear yet soft enough to seem like he was keeping a secret. 

 

“ _ This is it. _ ” 

  
“ _ This is what we need. _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So-- this chapter is LONG since overdue. When last I posted an update, fall semester was just getting started and BOY was last semester really something. A lot of things happened, some good, some bad, some that took me down a completely new route into a new fandom entirely and then I was stuck there. I was stuck and I had writers block. HOWEVER, this chapter was partially written. I knew that once I got it out of the way I'd be able to get on to the other ones because I have the rest of this fic planned until the very end. I'm super excited about how things are going to turn out, I just have to get there. 
> 
> Thank you to the people who are sticking around and putting up with my absolute bullshit ethic regarding getting chapters written and published. This fic means a TON to me because of how much effort I've put into getting everything in order and organized and-- again, lots of thanks to everyone. 
> 
> Onto the next chapter I suppose :D

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be a short little thing about Stan going to a burlesque and running into Rick Sanchez (and then some stuff happens but that's in the next chapter). All of it was an idea that a friend of mine gave me, so I ran with it. The longer I thought about it and the more I wrote, the more I thought of what the reason would be for a lot of Rick's actions. In the end, it grew to be something super detailed and complicated and I'm really excited to put more of this up! I have a lot of really cool ideas for what could happen and how this could go! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! I'm really liking where it's going so far and I'm excited to write more!
> 
> For updates feel free to follow on tumblr at bossyluigi.tumblr.com


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